Completed Heart, Redemption of the Father's Sins
by tribolt2121
Summary: Warrior, ruler, father, and widower: Thranduil Oropherion never trusted mortals, especially not Men. While on patrol in Eryn Lesgalyn Thranduil is transported to the Twenty-First Century where a mortal woman rescues him from a storm. The Greenwood king will need to confront his demons if he desires to return to his realm.
1. Chapter 1

The sudden temperature drop immediately caught her attention and shook her from her daydreams. Gone were the golden shafts of light that penetrated the leafy canopy of the woods while darkness quickly claimed the depths among the trees. Irritated with the sudden, curious, change in the weather, she rose to her feet and started the long walk back to her house.

Rain started to fall long before she was in the vicinity of the tree line that marked the edge of the yard. She had not heard any thunder nor seen any lightning bolts so as the drops fell with greater intensity, she was not concerned.

Until a long, white streak of lightning struck the ground in a small clearing not twenty feet away from her. The force of the strike threw her backward, headfirst, into a tree which left her momentarily stunned. Her head protested while she fought the black dots that clouded her vision. She glanced up but where she had expected to see a small fire she merely saw smoke curl and rise into the sky and a humanoid-looking lump prone on the grass.

Without a thought as to the how or why the person had so suddenly appeared, she sprinted toward the form. Long white-blonde hair splayed around its form which appeared to be covered by deep brown cloth. Firmly, she shook the figure to rouse it from its position. A glance at the sky showed the storm merely gathered in strength and intensity.

"Hello?" She called out, panicked. "Excuse me?" Frustrated and out of options, she rolled the person over and was temporarily stunned. Instead of a woman she found the face of a man that she could only describe as beautifully masculine. Dark eyebrows swept slightly upward over delicately closed eyelids, eyelashes rested on the very tops of his high cheekbones. A long, thin nose led directly to a pair of plump lips closed in a firm line.

Although the man did not appear to be heavy she was certain he still weighed too much for her to carry alone. With a deep breath, she smacked his face once for a response and received nothing. The slight rise and fall of his chest indicated he was alive, breathing. She risked a more forceful slap but was met with the same response. Finally, motivated by the roll of thunder, she smacked him as hard as she could and his eyes immediately opened.

"Sir?" She peered into his face. The innocent angelic expression transformed into an angry scowl and glare. "Sir? Can you walk?"

A hand shot out, twisting the wrist of the hand that struck him away, painfully. She yelped and attempted to move away from the man before he could inflict any more damage.

"Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" He growled at her, a light Irish brogue tinged his voice.

"Look, dude, I don't know how you got here but there is a nasty storm coming in and you were laying here when the lightning struck," she told him, masking her fear with anger. "My house is over there. You are more than welcome to call whoever you need to once we get there but you can't stay out here. It's not safe."

The man opened his mouth to protest again but she held up a hand to silence him.

"You can yell at me all you want to once we're inside, okay?" She stated flatly. Apparently, he had decided self-preservation was more pressing than his questions because he immediately closed his mouth and nodded his head in assent.

"Can you walk?" She asked him. The glare returned and he shoved her away, causing her to fall onto her back. In one fluid movement, he was on his feet and staring contemptuously down at her.

'What an ass, didn't even offer me a hand up,' she thought sardonically. She attempted to use both hands to push herself upright but the sharp pain the wrist he had twisted led her arm to buckle and she found herself back on the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a streak of lightning. That was all she needed to roll onto her feet and move quickly as she could in the direction of her house. The wind had increased in strength but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward, glancing backward once to see the man was following her.

She felt a sense of foreboding that she had invited a strange person into her house, one who had already injured her. However, her house had a phone and she could call the police to cart him away if he did anything else particularly stupid and threatening.

Her laundry room, which doubled as her mud room, lay just beyond the door inside the garage. As soon as they were both inside, she turned to close the door behind her and found herself yanked backward with something cold and sharp pressed to her throat and something warm and hard against her back.

"Now, who are you and why have you brought me here?" He hissed into her ear.


	2. Chapter 2

Thranduil felt the pulse of the mortal woman rapidly increase beneath his fingers while he continued to hold the blade of his sword against her. She was much smaller than any other woman of the race of Man he had encountered in his ten thousand years. Had he wanted, he could have simply snapped her neck and been done with the whole unpleasant situation.

After all, she had laid her hands on him without his consent or express permission.

"I repeat for the last time, woman: Who are you?" He hissed into her ear.

"My name is Lauren," she choked out. Her body shook with fear, bringing a smile to the king's face. Fear and intimidation were always his most effective weapons with any enemy and humans were the easiest to ply with such abilities.

"Alright then, Lauren," he repeated her name with disgust. "Where am I and how did you bring me here?"

"You're in Meadowville, Pennsylvania and I haven't the faintest clue how you got here," she replied. Anger shot through him and he pressed the blade closer.

"Do not lie to me, woman, or I will slit your throat and leave you as spider food," he told her.

"I'm not lying to you!" She exclaimed. "But it's really hard to talk when you have a knife pressed against my throat and it sure as hell doesn't make the answers spontaneously come to me."

Thranduil considered her words for a few moments. She was certainly no threat and, judging by the tremors he felt from her, she had told him the truth, or at least what she knew. Slowly, he lowered the sword but placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it hard. He could see her face twist in pain though she refused to cry out.

'Perhaps there is more steel to this woman than I thought,' he mused to himself. Without releasing her, he glanced around the room in which they stood. The walls and ceiling were white and something that looked like a long glass plate radiated a white light from above. Two large boxes of some sort lined one side of the wall, to the right of another door. He pondered whether that was a second exit or if it led further into the structure. He glanced beneath his boots to see what appeared to sandstone-colored tiles.

'Very odd,' he thought to himself. He shoved her toward the other door, loosening his grip on her shoulder but was ready to sink his sword into her if she displayed any movements toward deception.

"Open the door," he ordered her. He heard her huff and what he imagined to be a string of curses under her breath as she pushed down on the bronze-colored knob and flung the door open. Impatience surged through him and he shoved her through the door.

As he had suspected, there was much more to the structure than a single room. He immediately noted the high-vaulted ceilings, reminiscent of the manor construction in his own realm. To his left, he saw a large rectangular window cut into a wall with three stools, like a tavern counter. On the other side, there was a large, raised counter with a large bowl of what appeared to be apples. More large boxes lined the walls, all with handles of some sort. He imagined it was a kitchen of sorts, though he could see no fireplace nor oven for cooking.

To his left, was an opening to what seemed to be another room, a study of sorts. He was surprised to see rows and rows of books lining bookshelves and what appeared to be a sofa, though there was no wood visible beneath the worn gray fabric. The king nudged her a little more gently and they came to an open entryway. More of the strange torches cast were fastened to the ceiling but apparently had not yet been lit.

A wooden staircase was fastened to a wall and led to what he assumed was the second floor of the building.

Lauren was caught in a maelstrom of emotions that ranged from absolute terror to fury. The terror originated with the long-haired freak who she had attempted to rescue turned out to be a psychopath with a very long, very sharp, very real sword. He could be anything, an escapee from a mental institution or a psychopathic serial killer. Concern radiated as she considered her friends may arrive in three days to discover her dead, rotting body in the house somewhere, or worse.

Fury, however, added an extra edge to her coursing adrenaline. He actually had the nerve to not only man-handle her but did so in her own home, treating her like she was nothing more than a thing to be used for his purpose. She swallowed hard and refused to entertain any more thoughts as to what he might want to use her. He shoved her around rudely.

"Where is your mate?" He demanded.

"'Mate'?" She repeated, confused.

"Your mate, human," he repeated. "Your husband." Lauren bit back the laughter that threatened to bubble up in her throat, afraid she might sound as insane as the man behind her.

"I don't have one," she replied with perfect composure.

"You lie again!" He yelled at her, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

"Oh for the love of the gods, let go of me already!" She exclaimed, twisting out of his grip before he could blink. "Listen here, asshat, I don't have a husband, I don't have any kids, hell, I don't even have any pets. So, if you want to rob me blind or kill me, go ahead because no one is coming."

The blonde man arched an elegant eyebrow and merely stared at her the way someone does to a harmless, yet annoying insect. He then proceeded to throw his back and laugh merrily, as if she had said something hilarious. When he finally stopped laughing, a mirthful smile remained on his face and she was met with the deepest pair of sapphire eyes she had ever seen in her life.

"I assure you, Lady Lauren, I am no criminal," he told her. She resisted the urge to scream at him.

"Oh, really?" She countered him. "Let's see, where shall I begin? Assault, burglary, kidnapping, terroristic threats, _criminal_ trespass …." She trailed off and waited for the man to reply. She saw confusion flash through his eyes.

"I do not understand what half of those words mean, nor do I care," he declared, tossing his head like a diva. Lauren merely smirked. "Human laws do not concern me. I wish to go home and you shall help me."

Silently, she extended her finger and pointed at her front door.

"Don't let the door hit you on the ass either," she told him.

"You dare –"

"Yes, I dare!" She replied, the danger no longer phased her. "Get the hell out of my house you arrogant, pompous, jerkoff!"

"I am a king," he protested. Her eyes widened and she decided that it would be better to make a dash for the phone and die, then listen to the lunatic, even if he was a particularly hot lunatic. He held her in a vise-like grip before she could make her second step. She stomped on his foot as hard as she could only to find herself flying through the air, head first, and slammed into the mirror opposite the entrance.

Everything faded to black.

Thranduil glared at the woman with a mixture of rage and disdain. She had the audacity to assault him even after he informed her of his rank and title. She lay in a lifeless heap on the floor, shards of silver glass scattered around her still body. What he saw next made him freeze.

A large patch of red blood was smeared in along the frame where the mirror had been, forming a trail that followed the path she took. On the floor, a crimson pool grew quickly around her.

"No," he whispered, horrified. Then he reacted on pure instinct, lifting her tiny body in his arms and carrying her into the room behind the floating wall where he laid her out on another overstuffed sofa. Many centuries had passed since he had last used his healing skills but the study and repetition of the necessary steps were ingrained. He hurriedly glanced around, seeking some sort of water source to clean the wound and he would likely require a needle and thread.

Gently, he propped her head up on a pillow and, casting a worried look at her, started to search for some source fo water. A look outside revealed what appeared to be a large pool with a waterfall. The elven king hurriedly looked for something with which he could hold the water and after some time of rifling through cabinetry and closets he found large kitchen pots.

After a lot of cursing, he finally managed to unlatch the door that led to the pool where he quickly filled the pot and returned to her side. The color had drained from her face and more blood had soaked into the pillow. He tore strips from his tunic, dipped them in the water, and gently sat her upright so that he could clean the wound.

"Stay with me, little one," he murmured softly. She moaned softly in reply and Thranduil felt his heart leap. "Lauren, Lauren, listen to me. Do you have needle and thread?" She emitted another soft moan which he interpreted as an affirmative reply. "Where is Lauren? Where do you keep your sewing supplies?"

"Kitchen," she muttered. The elf heaved a sigh as he thought about the room where he had just been but returned. He knew the wound needed to be stitched closed if it was to heal properly.

"Alright, I will retrieve the supplies," he told her gently. "Do not fade from me." His second statement was a command. A soft grunt was all she could respond and he decided that was the best he would receive at the moment.

Forty-five minutes later, he had closed the wound and had returned her to a prone position. Internally, he cursed himself for the loss of control. Mortals were, he knew, fragile and although he despised them, he could not justify unnecessary injuries, especially not to a woman.

With nothing left to do but wait, Thranduil Greenleaf, king of Eryn Lesgalyn, set to work cleaning up the glass and blood in the entryway. He hoped that when the woman's husband returned she would at least be conscious. Unbidden, he smirked as he recalled the last time he had been confronted by a very surprised, very angry husband. He had just reached his majority and, as so many ellon are wont to do, he had taken it upon himself to bed as many available elleths as he could find.

Available, at least to the prince, was a very loose definition and had included any elleth ready and willing to allow him to take her. The particular elleth he had bedded that night was the daughter of his father's trade advisor, married to a lord from a minor house. He recalled that he was in the process of redressing himself when Lord Trillon burst into the bedroom, a look of pure murderous rage on his face when he discovered the prince in mid-flight and his wife asleep in their bed.

Thranduil had taken advantage of the shock to flee from the bedroom window, through the trees, and deeper into the forest. He frowned as he recalled the hours he spent high among the branches in the open wood. Sauron's shadow had not yet come to pass over the Woodland realm at that time. Mirkwood was called Greenwood and the city was a beautiful mixture of flets, tree manors, and even standard noble mansions, so different from the homely houses of Imladris or the flets in Lothlorien.

He had found nothing with which he could build a fire, or light one of the torches. Sunlight had not faded but he felt as if he reached the end of a particularly long, troublesome day. He continued to look outside the window, silently filing away his observations of his landscape and calming his mind. Behind him, he was aware of the woman's deep, even breathing while she hovered somewhere between sleep and death.

Long after the moon had risen in the sky, Thranduil King did something for the first time in his ten millennia: He sank to the floor beside the sofa to keep vigil for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Lauren's head started to throb as soon as she made a movement to lift it and she groaned with the pain. Around her, the house was completely silent and lit only with the pale moonlight that streamed through the living room window. Her mind began to move through a list of possible reasons she was passed out on her living room couch with an enormous headache.

Unfortunately, along with the pain in her head were the fresh images of the horrifying dream. The tall, blonde-haired man, the storm, the sword against her throat and being thrown against the wall, all of those things felt almost as if they had actually happened. Warily, she started to sit up and screamed when a hand clasped her shoulder.

"You should not move, not yet," the familiar Irish brogue told her gently.

"Oh for Chrissakes!" She shouted. "When is this nightmare going to end?!" She flopped back down but the quick, jolting movement simply sent fresh waves of pain through her skull. A small voice in the rear of her head reminded her to be grateful that the brain itself had no pain receptors or she would likely be dead.

"I assure you, my lady, this is no nightmare," he said softly. "Though I wish it were."

"Look, whatever your name is, would you mind turning on a light?" she snapped at him.

"I did look for some incendiary material earlier but found nothing to light the flames," he replied.

"'Incendiary materials'…?" She repeated. "Oh dear lord, knock off the bullshit. Just go flip the damn light switch! Wait, nevermind, you might try to impale me with something."

In a moment she was on her feet and the room began to spin. She staggered a couple of steps only to be caught by a pair of large hands that grasped her waist.

"Stupid mortal!" He hissed in her ear. "I told you not to stand so fast! Will you not listen?"

"To the man who just tried to kill me, hmm, let me think about that for a minute – fuck no," she replied snarkily, closing her eyes for a moment to mentally picture the layout of the room before she started to move slowly toward the wall. A second later, the room was flooded with soft, white light from above. Fortunately, she had a dimmer switch installed so that she was able to bring up just enough of the track lighting to see without magnifying her headache any more.

Lauren was entirely unprepared for the sight that greeted her. The man stood there looking far more haggard than before. His dark brown tunic was missing a large a swath where the hem had been, blood stained the fabric by his chest and shoulders, and his fingers were slightly brown with dried blood. Dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes while he stared at her.

"What the hell happened to you?" She asked him. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long blonde hair which only disheveled the locks.

"It seems I threw a young woman across the room, broke open her skull, and caused a number of lacerations to her neck and shoulders," he began wryly. She sucked in a deep breath at his dark joke. "However, the area where she was injured has been … attended to." A prissy, distasteful grimace briefly crossed his features.

"Oh, yeah, right, you're a king," she remarked sarcastically. "Thank you, highness, for cleaning up after you practically killed me." Anger flashed in his eyes again.

"I saved your life," he growled.

"_After_ you tried to kill me," she retorted. "Now, if you don't mind, you can show yourself out and get off of my property. If I see you here again, I will call the police and don't think I won't tell them about the fabulous treatment you gave me."

The man winced, his face turned to the side and she thought she saw ….

'No, that can't be right,' she thought. 'It just looks like it's pointed. Or he's got some ridiculous costume store ears on.'

"Yes, I am a king and I know how to behave better than I did," he said quietly, as if the words caused him physical pain. "And I am deeply, deeply sorry that I caused you any pain. I do not usually strike females."

"Whatever," she waved away his apology. "Just get out." The man started walking toward her, causing her to take corresponding steps backward until her she found herself against the wall with nowhere else to go. She swallowed hard as he came to stop within a couple of feet.

"My lady, I am asking for your mercy because I realize that I am a stranger in this land and …," he took a deep breath, staring at the floor as if he could find additional strength in the wood. "… I have nowhere else I can go."

Never in his life had he asked for the help of another. The very idea stuck in his craw and hurt his pride more than anything on Arda. He was an elf and she was a human, a mortal, and a hostile one at that. She should have been pleased he had deigned to speak with her at all.

A small voice reminded him that his pride and arrogance are what led them to this position. In order to find some way to escape from the strange realm in which he found himself, he would need to exercise more civility.

'I have never encountered one like her in my life,' he thought to himself. 'Perhaps I can overlook her failings and convince her to aid me.'

"I have been remiss and rude to you," he said. Gave her a shallow bow and pressed his hand over his heart in a standard elven greeting. "My name is Thranduil Greenleaf, son of Orophir, king of Eryn Lesgalen."

A very long silence settled over them while she just stood and stared at him. He noticed her eye color, unlike any other of the race of Men, a hazel-green that mesmerized him.

"Okay, okay, now I do have to sit down," she said finally, tottering over to a small table beside the sofa. Sinking down she brought a hand to her head. Before he could think, he was beside her with a hand gently laid on her shoulder.

"You want me to believe that your name is Thranduil Orophirion, the king of Mirkwood and father to Crown Prince Legolas Greenleaf?" She asked him. He felt a flash of hope course through him; perhaps he was not as lost as he had once presumed.

"Yes, my lady," he said. She nodded her head a few times then, as if she had changed her mind, shook rapidly from side to side.

"You are telling me that you are an elf?" She attempted to clarify.

"Since the day of my birth," he replied wryly.

"Uh huh," she said. "Are you taking anything that can cause these hallucinations? Drugs? Alcohol? Do you have a doctor I can call?" He furrowed his brow, sensing that she did not believe him.

"I know not of these 'drugs', to which you refer, but I rarely imbibe intoxicating liquors any longer and if a doctor is akin to a healer, as I suspect, then nay, I am in perfect physical health," he retorted. She snorted and rolled her eyes and Thranduil felt his anger increase, though he forced it down. Until a better alternative presented itself he would need to preserve some sort of goodwill between them.

"Okay Thranduil," she said his name as if it were truly not his own. "We'll go with your story for now. Now, do you remember how you ended up on Earth or, more specifically, my woods?"

"How can I prove to you that I am who I say that I am?" He asked her quietly. The woman shrugged and seemed lost in thought for a moment.

"Prove you're an elf," she replied triumphantly. He huffed as he considered her request, then he smirked. Carefully, he lifted his long hair and braids from his neck to reveal his pointed ears.

"You're so going to have to do better than that," she replied, clearly unimpressed. "Those are artificial for all I know." His smirk grew wider and he arched an eyebrow.

"You may … touch them if you wish to test my veracity," he told her, clenching his jaw for what he imagined would be a very uncomfortable experience.

"Fine," she replied, gesturing for him to lower his head. Her finger started on the shell of his ear, just above his ear lobe and she slowly traced it upward toward the tip. Thranduil felt his body react to the woman's touch in a way it had not in nearly four centuries. He forced himself to control his breathing and maintain his heartbeat at a steady level. Kings are not to be easily flustered, the old lesson sprang forth in his mind.

His resolve lasted approximately five seconds before she twisted the tip around. He yelped in response to the pain and finally pulled himself away from her abusive fingers. He scowled at her while the blood rushed to his ear. Surly, it was crimson and likely to be bruised on the morrow. Her jaw dropped just as his mind registered the hot, throbbing pain in his ear.

"Holy mother of god," she whispered.

"Ah, so now you believe then?" He said, arms crossed over his chest. Much to his amusement, she nodded her head dumbly a few times and he could see her struggle to process the information with which she had been presented. She seemed to recover her senses quickly.

"Okay, you're Thranduil Greenleaf and you're an elf," she said, a little less confidently. "Well, Thranduil, let me clear up a few things for you before you decide whether or not you want to stick around.

"You are on Earth, in a country called the United States of America, specifically in Middlewood Pennsylvania. We don't have royalty, nobility or anything that resembles a feudal system here. That time in our history is long gone. Therefore, you either suck it up and get used to me addressing you as Thranduil, or Mr. Greenleaf if you prefer, or you can leave. We have a democratic republic here and I do not, and will not, pretend to show deference to a foreign monarch, even if he is an elf."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed but he nodded in agreement, "You have other conditions?"

"Of course," she replied. "It's my little fiefdom." He chose to ignore the jab.

"I am not a servant or maid, a cook, a seamstress, or whatever," she began. "You're a grown … elf, so I assume that you are perfectly capable of cleaning up after yourself, dressing yourself –" Thranduil's eyes grew huge and he cleared his throat. "- and generally not frightening away my guests. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, and I'm putting you in one of my guest bedrooms," she replied. "It's simple and common, like myself, but I'm sure you'll survive."

He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm but said nothing.

"I do not know how to prepare food with your … devices –" He held up a hand to cut off her protest. "- so I would be most appreciative if you would instruct me in their use." She closed her mouth and nodded.

"And I'll have to find some clothes for you too," she mumbled under her breath as she led him toward the staircase. A jolt of annoyance struck him.

"What, praytell, is wrong with my clothing?" He asked her tightly. His garments were always fashionable and in season for his realm. Thranduil took great pride in his appearance, particularly anything that was shiny.

"First, those will have to be cleaned," she told him, her back to him, which irked him even more. His eyes consequently fell on her little, round bottom which he appreciatively watched as she took each step. "They're fairly blood-stained. Second, if you have to go anywhere, you will not blend in _at all_ and you need to if you want to get home as quickly and smoothly as possible, though I have no idea how that is even going to be accomplished."

Suddenly, she turned to face him and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and he felt the warmth of a small flush on his cheeks. Fortunately, she would be unable to see his face due to the darkness into which they had ascended and he fervently hoped she did not suspect that he had been appreciating her assets.

She flicked her fingers and once more, the entire area was illuminated as if a hundred torches had been lit at once. He took in his surroundings, carefully noting the placement of windows, doors, and any other hazards and escape routes.

"Come on," she sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

Never in her life did she expect to be standing in a bathroom with a ten-thousand-year-old elf king, of Middle Earth no less, explaining the basics of modern plumbing and sanitation. As she explained the rudiments of the toilet, Lauren realized in that moment that either her life truly had reached rock bottom or she was hallucinating.

Hallucinations should not include migraines.

"Okay, so here are your towels," she told him. "When you finish using them, go ahead and hang them on the back of the door to dry, please. Good night." She turned so that he did not see her pained expression.

"Lady Lauren?" Thranduil called out to her softly. She placed her hand on the hallway wall to stabilize herself.

"Thranduil, please don't append 'lady' to the front of my name," she told him. "I'm a commoner and I come from peasant stock." She felt his hand on her shoulder again.

"Thank you for showing me the bathing chamber and the, uh, operations," he paused a moment. "Now, please listen to me for a moment for you may find I actually have something of value to impart."

"Alright …," she trailed off, waiting.

"Please rest," he said softly, mouth beside her ear. The noise sent another wave of pain through her head and she shrugged the elf off.

"That was the plan," she told him. "Good night." Her hand continued to slide along the wall until she reached her bedroom. Conscious of his eyes on her, she quickly closed the door behind her and flopped onto her bed. Within moments, she was asleep.

Thranduil felt a pang of guilt when he heard the door close. He resolved to check on her later and returned to the 'guest room,' as she called it, where she had placed clean towels. Briefly, he wondered what he would wear after he bathed as he could hardly put on dirty clothes. His hand brushed against the device in the wall the ignited the overhead torch.

He flicked his finger up and the light flared. Flicking his finger down, the light was extinguished. Again and again, he amused himself by moving the switch up and down until he finally grew bored and decided to explore the room a little further. Inside a chest of drawers, he discovered what appeared to be more mortal apparel, different from what Lauren had worn. An image of the woman dressed in the strange blue breaches and fitting dressing shirt filled his mind, which he quickly shook away.

'Just a mortal,' he tried to reassure himself. 'A means to an end.'

He pulled out a pair of trousers that appeared to be made of the same material as Lauren's blue breaches. With a few deft movements, he had unlaced his leggings and slid them down his legs, leaving them in a pile beside the bed while he pulled on the looser trousers. The bottoms brushed the tops of his feet though the waist was loose, loose enough that should he push they would slide down his legs.

He continued to rifle through drawers until he found dressing shirts in different colors, colors the elf had never seen in nature. He glanced down at the tunic and scowled at the ruined section, quickly unfastening the clasps and shrugging off the garment before he slipped the shirt over his head. Not as loose as the trousers, he felt satisfied it would serve its purpose and threw it on top of the soft trousers.

The 'shower', as Lauren had called it, was almost as relaxing as a bath, though much more efficient for cleanliness. Hot water cascaded down his body like a waterfall and he nearly moaned in pleasure. Using the soaps and other items, he managed to clean himself to a satisfactory degree before he begrudgingly shut off the flow of water.

Thranduil stepped out of the tub, steam and mist floated around him as he wrapped the towel around his waist. The mirror above the 'sink' was clouded, though that seemingly did nothing to curb his curiosity as to his appearance. Exhaustion still weighed heavily on him and he was certain he looked worse than he felt. Yet, a powerful apprehension shot through him even as he reached for the cold glass.

A ragged ellon's face stared back at him. He had not felt the exhaustion, the confusion, and the fear that weighed upon his fea, even when he watched his son's mother die after the delivery. Remorse for his son's loss had plagued him for centuries though he never felt the loss of Ralaria as his queen, spouse, or lover.

The mating after their wedding had strained them both. Ralaria remained in love with the captain of the Noldorian guard and he had felt … nothing. They had both performed their duty admirably and produced an heir to the throne of Eryn Lesgalon, though the distance between them grew cavernous over the course of the pregnancy.

Thranduil averted his eyes and searched for some sort of brush or comb which he could use to disentangle his long hair. After rummaging through several drawers, most of which were filled with items which had strange names or purposes he could not discern, he managed to locate what appeared to be a sort of wire brush and fine-tooth comb. The brush appeared to be similar to what he might use to groom his horse's mane and tail.

Soon, his hair was practically dry and had returned to its natural, free-flowing state. He smiled in satisfaction at what he saw in the mirror, satisfaction of his vanity, before he left the small room to continue to explore the rest of the house.

He had been drawn to the books in the second room he had seen upon his arrival that afternoon. Flicking on the light switch, he saw the woman kept her own small library with books the like of which he had never before encountered. Most of the books had titles in Westron, though some appeared to be in languages that used Westron symbols.

He reached a section of books made entirely of paper. Some of the bindings had pictures of creatures reminiscent of those in Middle Earth. The covers were far more colorful that the tomes with hard binding.

A small, green paper book caused Thranduil to stop in place: _The Hobbit_. Slowly, he reached out and tugged the spine away from the others on the shelf. On the cover was a portrait of Bilbo Baggins.

Lauren felt herself unwillingly tugged toward consciousness, though she could not pinpoint the why or how of the force. Gentle fingertips brushed against the recently closed wound. She exhaled sharply in response to the sensation.

"Shhh, little one, be still," a familiar voice murmured. She merely grunted in reply and squirmed slightly beneath the pressure.

"Not bloody likely," she muttered sleepily. Her response was met with a chuckle. A bolt of panic shot through her when she felt the sensation of something dry and warm move up her back to where her skin still screamed from the cuts and bruises.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, fully awake.

"I am checking your wounds," he said, as if stating the obvious. He fought against her hands as she attempted to slap him away from her.

"Uh, no, really, I think you've done enough," she said, mistrust evident in her voice as she tried to wiggle away.

"I am not averse restraining you," he warned her.

"Fine," she replied, exasperated. She twisted herself as much as possible to be certain he did not plant a kitchen knife in her back. Thranduil huffed in exasperation.

"I am not in the habit of slaying wounded mortal women," he told her.

"I don't know that," she retorted. "I don't know _you_."

"Fair enough," he muttered. Fleetingly, Lauren realized she missed the sensation of his hands against her skin.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She finally dared to ask him. "I thought kings didn't get their hands dirty."

Thranduil was silent for so long Lauren thought he had left the room.

"My father trained me," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It is a skill possessed by all elven nobles, but particularly royalty. I have had no need to use this skill in millennia; my personal healer is more than adequate."

"I'm glad you haven't become rusty," she joked.

"'Rusty'?" He questioned.

"Finding great difficulty to do something from lack of doing it," she explained. "You're very good at it. I sure as hell didn't want to go to the hospital."

"Is that similar to a house of healing?" Thranduil asked her.

"Yes, exactly," she replied.

"Ah, say no more my lady," he said softly. "I, too, do not enjoy such convalescence."

"Well, being king you can at least order them to leave you alone," she pointed out. The elf king guffawed and Lauren chuckled in response.

"Only once were the healers ever able to keep me away from my duties," he replied. "And that was only because my son conspired with them."

Lauren could no longer keep the mirth back. She released a full-blown laugh at the thought of a vast conspiracy to force the great king of Greenwood to recover from some injury.

"I feel sorry for all of them," she finally gasped.

"Why?" He asked sharply.

"To earn the ire of the king of Greenwood is not to be envied," she replied. The unexpected sound of his laughter soothed her concerns that she had truly offended the elven patriarch.

"I will leave you to rest now, enna," he said. "Good night."

"Good night Mr. Greenleaf," she heard herself say before she floated back into a deep, healing sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of something slamming onto her nightstand woke her with a start and she jumped up, all sleep gone. Fortunately, her head had stopped throbbing but she nevertheless turned a glare to whatever had interrupted her peaceful slumber. Towering above her with an expression somewhere between fury and murder stood Thranduil.

"Where did you get this?" He demanded, his voice low and menacing, finger pointed toward a green paperback.

"Good morning to you too, Thranduil," she replied sarcastically. She reached over and picked up the book, _The Hobbit_ by J.R.R. Tolkien. Someone had been snooped in her office and clearly felt no remorse for doing so.

"It's a book," she snarked. "I assume you've heard of them. People generally use them for information or entertainment."

"So clever," he replied, not amused with her explanation. "How did you come to have a copy of this?"

"The book store, many years ago," she replied, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and sliding to her feet. It was then she realized she was standing far too close to a shirtless elf with beautifully defined muscles and smooth skin that she wanted nothing more than to run her hands over.

'Gods, he smells wonderful,' the thought to herself as she inhaled his unique scent of cedar and something masculine.

"How did this book come to be here, in this world?" He demanded.

"Look Thranduil," she began, forcing herself to walk around the livid elf. "I will give you a complete explanation –" She cast a wary glance at the green digits on her alarm clock: 5:00 AM. "- after I've made my first cup of coffee. Otherwise, you can yell at me all you want but it'll be like wringing information from a rock."

She managed to make it to her kitchen in a bleary-eyed state, grabbed her mug and put it under the single-cup brewer. Something small and green slid onto the counter beside her and she jumped, whirling around to see the elf. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared.

"In case it slipped your mind," he replied haughtily.

"Dude, I may be mortal and old but my mind isn't gone yet," she snarked at him. "I can remember things for more than three minutes. Coffee?"

She bit back the smile that threatened as she watched Thranduil blink once, twice in confusion. Then he nodded begrudgingly as she obtained a second mug.

"How do you take it?" She asked him. He waved away her question.

"However you take yours will suffice," he responded. More slowly than usual, solely to aggravate him, she ripped open a small yellow packet of sweetener and poured the contents into her cup before doing the same with his.

'Like he needs artificial sweetener, he looks like a god,' she thought miserably to herself. 'Stupid perfect elves.' Of course, she had no idea what kind of effect concentrated white sugar might on elven physiology so she decided it was safer to use a less risky substance.

"You recall our argument yesterday when I essentially called you a nutcase and a reject from a role-playing game?" She asked him as she leaned against the counter. He nodded his head.

"Though what does that have to do with –"

"Let me finish," she interrupted him. "The story of Bilbo Baggins, Smaug, the one ring, and even the Fellowship are fairytale stories in this world, written by a man named J.R. . To us, they are merely … fairytale accounts but well loved by many."

"'Fairytale accounts'?" Thranduil repeated angrily. "This is all quite real. This happened, in my world, these quests were very real and very important to the fate and future of the races!"

"Calm down or you'll likely go into cardiac arrest," she told him. She hopped up on the island so to bring them closer to eye level. The elven king leaned back against the counter, mug in his long, graceful fingers, still shirtless and incredibly sexy, Lauren noted to her dismay.

"Let me put it to you this way," she replied. "If someone wrote an account of another's, uh, adventures here, whatever those may be, and described all of the things you've _now_ seen, would you not see it as a fabrication for entertainment, or maybe a story with some allegory in it?" Thranduil scowled into his mug and nodded, silently.

"Now, these stories are very, very well loved because they harken back to a time, similar in our history, when people did go on quests, believe in magic, and put loyalty above all other things," she explained.

"That does not explain why Bilbo's book was purloined," he replied.

"Well, until you said something to me, I had no idea it had been," she replied. "The man who wrote those books was a professor of languages in a far realm known as England where, yes, there is still a monarchy, though the feudal system is long dead. He died before I was even born.

"Frankly, I, like everyone else, believed the accounts he gave to others as to how he created this world and the languages spoken in it, the characters, er, people in them and the events that unfolded. Until you showed up yesterday, I had no reason to believe otherwise. I have no idea how he actually came to know about all of this and your world."

Thranduil remained silent for a few moments, lifting the small green-covered book and examining the cover. Lauren waited patiently for him to say something more.

"It is not precisely the same as Bilbo's book," he began slowly. "And I am offended by this Tolkien's characterization of me."

"Why? Because you come off as a cold, arrogant, greedy asshole?" She replied with a smirk. He gave her a withering look before he placed the book back on the counter.

"Something like that," he said warily.

"I assume you didn't find _The Lord of the Rings _then," she replied. He arched his eyebrow in that delicate, regal way she had come to recognize already. "It's the tale of the Fellowship on the way to Mordor to destroy the one ring."

"I suppose there are unflattering descriptions of myself in there as well?" He asked, dryly.

"Don't remember," she replied with a shrug, taking a sip of coffee.

"You do not remember insulting words about another creature?" He asked her. She shrugged again.

"No, I only remember things about major characters," she explained. "If I don't remember you in the story, you obviously weren't a major character."

Quickly, she slipped back to her feet and left the kitchen before he could see the self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"Halt," he commanded. Irritated, she turned to face him and give him a piece of her mind but found his fingers clasping her chin to force her face forward while he pressed his fingers against the laceration on her head with more force than strictly necessary, she observed darkly. A moment later, she felt her shirt being lifted and she yelped, jumping away from him and watching her coffee slosh over the rim of the cup.

"Hey, I don't know about Middle Earth but here, it's considered rude to start removing a woman's clothes," she told him darkly. "Especially if she didn't give you permission."

Thranduil rolled his sapphire blue eyes at her and waved away her objection.

"Do not flatter yourself, woman, I was merely checking the progress of your lacerations," he told her. The comment stung but she refused to let him know that he had hurt her in any way.

'Just one more reason to get this arrogant, pompous son-of-a-bitch out of my house forever,' she mused silently.

"Fine, thank you, you could have just asked then," she said before returning to the kitchen for a paper towel to clean the mess. He continued to stand there, a smirk on his face and she felt his eyes on her while she cleaned up her mess. Ignoring him, she continued outside to the deck where she was determined to drink her coffee in peace.

"Your husband or lover did not return last night," his voice startled her.

"I am very close to making you wear bells as a condition of staying here," she snapped at him angrily while her heart pounded against her chest.

"Elves do not make noise when we walk," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "You did not answer my question."

"Actually, it was a statement and an erroneous one at that," she replied, her gaze quickly lost in the serenity of green yard. The sky was overcast with a promise of rain. She hoped there would not be a storm similar to the freak incident that came through yesterday. If any other strange creatures were deposited near her, she might very well have a nervous breakdown.

"Oh?" He replied, sitting beside her.

"Yes, as I told you yesterday before you so tactfully threw me against the wall, I don't have a husband or a lover," she replied evenly.

"Why? Are you not of marriageable age?" He pressed her. Lauren rolled her eyes and prepared for an even more arcane conversation than what she usually had with her friends or aunts as to why she remained single.

"Yep, eighteen is the age of majority, at least in this realm," she replied. "I can't speak to others."

"Yet you are unmarried nor do you have a lover," he observed.

"Congratulations! You have earned yourself the title of Captain Obvious for today!" She exclaimed sarcastically, drumming her fingers impatiently along the table.

"Are you being courted?" He asked.

"Dear gods, no already," she said in exasperation. "I told you already, no one is going to simply appear and demand for you to leave, alright? I live alone, I have no husband, lover, boyfriend, suitor, significant other … whatever!" She finished flustered.

"Whyever not?"

"Are all elves this annoying or just you because you are a royal pain in my ass?" She demanded. The elf king smiled sweetly at her, apparently satisfied he had gotten whatever reaction from her that he sought.

"I am merely curious," he replied.

"Don't you have a son to nag about getting married? And what about your wife? Isn't she going to be very worried about your disappearance or was she relieved to see the back of you yesterday?" Lauren replied. Thranduil's smile fell very suddenly from his face but he offered his own shrug.

"My wife died in childbirth three thousand years before the second War of the Ring," the king replied.

"I'm sorry," Lauren said, a pang of guilt washed over her for her insensitivity.

"Your condolences are not warranted for me; our marriage was a political arrangement and nothing more," he replied. "I only lament that Legolas did not have a mother to care for him, though I sense I did not perform too poorly as a parent."

"Oh," Lauren said thoughtfully. "And you never thought to remarry then?"

"No, there was no need after my son's birth," he replied, his own face turned toward the woods. "Ralaria and I hated one another. She was vain, shallow, and carried on her affair with the captain of her father's guard in a very public manner."

"You didn't have a lover or any affairs on the side then?" Lauren asked wryly. Thranduil shook his head.

"Nay, for when I took my vow I swore I would have no other until we were parted by death, even if that should never come for either of us," he responded. "At that point, I had already sewn my wild oats and was too involved with the kingdom to give much thought to amorous pursuits.

"After her death, I occasionally had a dalliance here or there but nothing long term and certainly not anything one might consider 'love.'"

"It sounds like you don't believe in it," she remarked quietly. Again, the elf shrugged while he rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

"I have no reason to disbelieve it either," he countered. "I have seen many of the Eldar fall hopelessly in love but after ten thousand years I have also come to the knowledge that not all are meant for it." Lauren nodded thoughtfully.

"What of you? Have you ever fallen in love?" He asked her, a note of curiosity in his voice.

"Yes, maybe – who the hell knows," she replied rhetorically.

"Surly you have been courted," he pressed her.

"Well, I'm not that undesirable," she remarked dryly.

"That is not what I meant to imply," he said, a faint blush colored his cheeks as if embarrassed.

"Just didn't work out," she answered. "I agree with your statement that not everyone is meant to find love, I believe I'm one of those people."

Thranduil was silent while he watched two red-breasted birds fly over their heads and subsequently the house. Another brick in the foundation of trust had been laid. She appeared to be content with the quiet tranquility around her and did not seem to need to shatter the peace with unnecessary words.

In spite of himself, his had started to lose the irritation he usually felt around those of the race of Men and consequently she was no longer a necessary evil. Though, to be honest with himself, he was uncertain how to classify his perspective on her after the last few hours and, particularly, the recent conversation.

'A means to an end,' he thought.

"I meant to tell you that I'm very impressed that you managed to locate my stash of men's clothes, by the way," she said finally. "That is the room where I throw them."

"Garments left by your lovers?" He teased her, then mentally rebuked himself for treating her familiarly. She was, as she mentioned, of peasant stock and the topic was hardly any of his business.

"Uh, no," she said, casting him a wary glance. "Occasionally I have guests and I have friends who sometimes journey from a long way away to visit, spouses or lovers with them. As with any human, sometimes they forget things. Once the drawers are full, I simply donate them to a thrift store if they are in any shape to be worn."

"Then with all of these visitors, do you have additional clothing?" Thranduil asked, keeping the note of hopefulness out of his voice. She burst out laughing and he felt his irritation return once more.

"No, no, I'm not so cruel as to tell you that you will have to wear filthy clothes or go naked," she said, then the color drained from her face, much to Thranduil's amusement. "I am taking you to a clothing shop to find you a few things to wear until we can figure out some way to send you back to Middle Earth."

Thranduil smiled at the thought of new garments, though he truly hoped they were as comfortable as the clothing he had discovered in his room. He was also curious as to what males wore in this world.

"Don't get too excited, there, blondie, the clothes are going to be cheap, nothing like the finery you're accustomed to," she told him. He felt himself frown at the thought of wearing the same clothing as commoners but then pushed the thought away. Humoring her would be the quickest way to return to his home.

In any event, he knew no one, save the mortal woman, so he was not concerned about rumors or the like about the appearance of a king. He nodded his head thoughtfully.

"I appreciate whatever efforts you shall make on my behalf," he replied cordially. She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she did not trust him, and he repressed the urge to sigh again. Each step forward seemed to lead to an additional two steps back.

Except until she introduced him to the common mode of transportation in her world, a device that only reminded him of death. Lauren had called the thing an 'automobile,' and explained it was a 'horseless carriage.' Thranduil crossed his arms and glared at the odd, misshapen machine.

"Okay, look, here's my two-second explanation of how this thing works," she began, placing her tiny hand on her automobile. "Many, many years ago, humanity discovered how to power a carriage without the need for horses. And so, highness, I present to you the automobile, or in this case, four-door compact sedan.

Compact was precisely the word that sprang to mind as he studied the box. It appeared to be streamlined for wind and speed with wheels that had an unpleasant-smelling odor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the idea of sitting in such a torture chamber. He looked up and saw her petal-like lips twisted into another scowl.

"Look dude, either you get in this or you walk," she chastised him.

"Walking remains a perfectly acceptable form of transportation," he countered with a shrug.

"I am not going to go clothes shopping for you Thranduil," she told him. "We don't have our garments made here; they are already created and must be tried on before purchase to make certain they fit."

She threw up her hands.

"Fine, let's at least get your inseam figured out before we leave," she said in exasperation. "Hopefully you'll be more amenable to the idea of clothes that fit properly if you do."

Thranduil pretended to be confused as to what she referred but he was eager to learn how quickly he could cause another attractive blush to rise to her cheeks. A string of curses would also be a nice outcome, if he managed to manipulate her correctly.

'Or, this entire prank could very well come back to haunt me later,' he thought ruefully.

Standing in the entryway, she handed the elf the top part of a yellow measuring tape before she pulled it down to the floor. Thranduil watched her, his mind suddenly shifted to …. He shook the thought from his head immediately. Not only was it an inappropriate response but it cut against his own principles about human-elf relations.

"What do I do with this?" The king asked.

"Are you telling me you've never had your inseam measured?" She demanded. He raised his eyebrows and pretended ignorance of the practice. With a huff, she sat back on her heels and glared up at him.

"Okay, fine, hold the top of the tape to the interior of your -, your - , your –"

"My?" He prompted her.

"Your crotch," she spat out and quickly looked away. Thranduil felt the sweet thrill of victory as he watched the blood color her face in a becoming shade of red.

"Oh, I see," he said. He continued to watch her while she wrote something on a slip of paper, followed by a number of curses.

"For the love of the gods, you're going to be a pain in the ass to shop for too!" She wailed and he cringed at the sound. She then directed him to hold the tape on the outside of his leg so she could measure the length. He smirked as the measurements continued until she moved to wrap the tape around his chest.

At first, he had not realized it but his breathing had increased as he felt the warmth of her hand through his dressing shirt. When he realized his heartrate had increased he silently offered a prayer to the Valar that she did not notice his reaction to her proximity. He was a elf and a king and she was a mere mortal, it was simply ridiculous and humiliating.

"Okay," she said suddenly and much more softly than before. Almost as if she had read his mind. "Are you ready to get into the car now?"

"You mean box o' death," Thranduil grumbled under his breath.

"Potato, potahto," she replied with a shrug.

"Lead on, Lauren," he said. "If I wish to remain decent it appears I have no other choice," he replied.

"You know," she said. "I'm really starting to hate you."

Thranduil's response was to laugh out loud while he watched her stalk toward the death machine.


	6. Chapter 6

Lauren had assumed that as the ruler of a large realm with a predilection toward shiny objects, Thranduil would absolutely love to shop. She had even been prepared to drag him out of any store they entered and say no to expensive apparel. Once again, he surprised her and she learned a little more about the real Thranduil Orophirion.

The first thing she learned was that he absolutely detested looking for clothing, though he seemed to have a natural eye and flare for style.

"I simply tell the tailor what I wish and they produce it," he explained. "Since I am immortal, my measurements have not changed since I reached my majority so I need not have garments fitted to me."

She nodded sympathetically as she herded him into Macy's. Immediately, she went to the sales rack and started to pull jeans, khakis, and shorts, piling them on his arm. Then she dug out some matching shirts, some button-up and others polo style. A few of the clerks gave her strange looks while a few others eyed her charge with an appreciative leer.

Fortunately, he was much too focused on accomplishing their task to acknowledge the eyes of the other people around him. She surmised that it was not often a six-foot-three-inch, well-built, gorgeous man with long blonde hair traipsed into Macy's with the equivalent of a very short, plain woman in tow.

"Put on the jeans first and make sure you wear one of the shirts I handed you before you come out!" She called into the dressing room. A string of curses she presumed were in Sindarin followed before he reappeared in bare feet and looking ever so delicious in the faded blue jeans and green polo shirt.

Suddenly, it was very difficult to concentrate on anything but the elf before her. She swallowed hard and took a brief walk around. The jeans fit him perfectly in all of the right places, especially his tight ass. When she finished the circle she looked up to see a mirthful smile on his face.

"Did you see something you like?" He asked her, voice low so he would not be overheard. She flushed deeply and averted her eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself, blondie," she told him. "You wouldn't to go around wearing pants too tight or loose in the seat, would you? Well, maybe too tight because you do wear leggings and all." He looked at her, absolutely horrified.

"Under my breaches and only in battle or hunting," he snapped. She said nothing but gave herself a mental pat on the back for finding yet another way to get beneath his skin. They repeated the process over the next half-hour, with Lauren having to shoo away an extremely friendly associate who attempted to bring more clothes that would 'compliment his wild, exotic style and skin tone,' as the man put it.

Once he had left them alone she saw Thranduil frown.

"I do believe he prefers males to females," he remarked flatly. She gritted her teeth, waiting for a display of elven homophobia to raise eyebrows.

"I do believe he prefers you," she added after a few moments. Thranduil shrugged and followed her to a counter where a short, curly red-headed young man stood nervously eyeing the clothes Thranduil unceremoniously dumped before him.

"Macy's charge?" The young man asked. Lauren nodded her head and attempted not to cringe as she heard the scanner beep over each bar code. Their next stop was a bargain shoe store farther inside the mall. It was at this time Lauren learned the second thing that surprised her about the elf.

Thranduil's predilection toward shiny objects had nothing to do with greed and everything to do with what she termed EADD, or 'Elf Attention Deficit Disorder.' He was easily distracted when overstimulated, especially by anything that shined very brightly. Apparently, since he came to Earth, this also extended to flashing strobe lights, television screens, and anything that moved faster than an elf.

She chuckled to herself after a while, taking his arm in her hand while she gently guided him toward the store in hopes they would carry his size in footwear.

"What, may I ask, is so funny?" He asked, irritated.

"Well, as to what I recall from _The Hobbit_ and _Lord of the Rings_, you are known for your fondness for shiny objects," she explained. He scowled for a moment then the expression dropped off of his face.

"I am often easily distracted," he admitted. "It is a problem with which I have struggled for millennia. If I am perceived to be a greedy, materialistic elf, the likely reason is my fascination with the object's ability to capture my attention."

"Some humans suffer from similar problems," she assured him. "It's called Attention Deficit Disorder. There is no shame to admitting you have it."

The third thing about Thranduil that surprised him was the same thing that nearly caused her to have a heart attack. He suddenly stopped, turned her hand, and pressed a gentle kiss in the palm. All the coldness had melted from his captivating eyes that remained locked on hers.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "You are the first to understand the … difficulty I sometimes have with concentration, and not judge me for my weakness."

"Mmm, I wouldn't call it a weakness so much as a personality quirk," she told him in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Besides, it would be hypocritical of me to judge since I have a hard time sitting still for even fifteen minutes."

Shock did not even begin to describe what he felt at that moment. Even as an elfling, Thranduil could recall severe beatings administered by his own father should he have been found to not have been holding rapt attention of everything around him. Over time, he had been mocked and ridiculed, which only increased his anger and consequently reduced the length of this temper.

Once he had been crowned as king of Eryn Lesgalyn, he was able to obtain his revenge against those who had wronged him for so many years. Soon, he had earned a reputation as a cold, hard, xenophobic elf with a desire for nothing more than power and wealth. Yet, as the ruler of the kingdom, no one dared to mock him or even remark upon his fascination with reflective metals and jewels. No one had noticed he had the same strange fascination with polished armor or weaponry, even the sun's reflection from water could snare his attention for a time.

Never did he expect to find anyone to understand his struggle much less a mortal woman. There was no judgment in her eyes, no impatience, and no fear, just understanding and empathy. Empathy, an emotion with which he was entirely unfamiliar as the giver or the receiver.

Another bond of trust had formed between them in that moment. Yet, he could not explain why he had made such an intimate gesture toward her. It was the gesture of a courting male, not a friend, and certainly not King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.

"You are rare among your race, Lauren," he told her truthfully, a soft smile played on his lips.

"How would you know? You don't like mortals and sequester yourself from them, that part is still quite true," she snapped at him. The smile immediately became a frown as the moment between disappeared. Once more, they were adversaries who stood on opposite sides of a great canyon.

'One step forward, four steps backward,' he noted. Again, she took his arm and guided him toward some sort of cobbler's shop when he caught sight of something that stopped him in his tracks and blush to the tips of his ears.

"Thranduil?" She called to him. The elf, however, was distracted once more by what appeared to be statues of women wearing garments more provocative than even his imagination could conjure. Blue eyes wide, he intently studied a black lace object that reminded him vaguely of a corset except for the fact it was far too short and only covered the statue's breasts. Beside the first statue was a second wearing a lilac ensemble similar to the black lace, except this one wore an undergarment that did not appear to serve any purpose whatsoever except to provide an arousing view of the body.

Internally he groaned and slowly brought the large bags from the Macy's shop in front of his breeches to hide the bulge that had suddenly formed. He was caught between amazement at the sight and disgust for his lack of control.

"Thranduil," a hand shook his shoulder and he shook his head to clear it of the images that raced through his mind, all involving a certain hazel-eyed mortal woman. "Come on, we need to get you a couple of pairs of shoes and I will explain to you about that place."

Like the Macy's shop, the cobbler's shop consisted of shoes already made, in various sizes, on display. Some of the styles were familiar to him as boots and sandals, while others confused him, like the half boots and what appeared to be ladies shoes with a very high heel. He lifted a red shoe with a heel that was at least three inches, turning it over.

"These are for women?" He asked her.

"Yep," she replied. He frowned and examined the shoe more closely.

"How do you mortals balance on these small towers and not break a bone, or your necks?"

"Uh, well, very carefully," she replied.

"Do you own shoes such as these little towers?" He asked her, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. She laughed at his confusion.

"Unfortunately, I do," she affirmed. "A few pairs, as a matter of fact." His eyes grew larger as he turned to face her.

"Whatever for?" He asked innocently, suddenly very curious to see her attempt to navigate a floor with such high heels.

"Um, I know it has not escaped your notice that I'm small, even for a human," she replied. "It actually assists me with certain parts of my profession." Thranduil raised an eyebrow, now thoroughly intrigued by her statement.

"What is this profession?" He drawled, lifting a shiny shoe that was frighteningly bright yellow. Gently, she clasped the shoe and returned it to its place on top of the shelf.

"I am an attorney and counselor at law," she replied quietly.

"But you are a woman," Thranduil replied, lifting another shoe with what appeared to be shiny stones sewn into the material.

"No shit," she replied, sarcastically. "Thank you for clearing that up. I was confused for the first thirty years of my life." Thranduil glowered at her but did not reply as she lifted what appeared to be a pair of plain, dark brown shoes.

"These are a decent start," she muttered. She motioned for him to sit on the small stool behind him and place his foot on top of a very strange contraption. Lauren explained that the device was used to measure his foot to assist with locating the proper size for the shoe. After fiddling with the various parts, she nodded to herself and knelt down along the sides of the shelves to find, presumably, the proper size shoe.

"Now, will you explain that shop we passed with the … unusual garments?" Thranduil asked her. Her head snapped up and she silently cursed that she had not sufficiently distracted him from Victoria's Secret.

"Um, well, that is what is known as a lingerie shop," Lauren began, opening the box with the correct size and handing it to the elf. "Those are the types of garments typically sold in such stores."

"Really?" He replied, arching an elegant eyebrow. "What purpose do they serve?"

"Well, technically, they are women's undergarments," she said, feeling the heat rise in her face while she pretended to be interested in a pair of ghastly sandals. "And some of them are, though most of the apparel is meant to be visual stimulation for a seduction."

"I see," the elf replied, quickly tying the thin shoe lace on first the right, then the left shoe. "Do you own any such undergarments?"

She dropped the shoe in her hand and proceeded to glare at the elf, who suddenly appeared to be fascinated with the shoes on his feet.

"And this topic of conversation is over," she replied.

"No, it is not," he replied, lifting his head with a smirk. "Do you, Lauren, own such items as you call 'lingerie'?"

"I fail to see the relevance of your question, Thranduil," she retorted.

"I fail to see why you refuse to answer the question," he retorted.

"Ugh," she replied. "Just walk in the shoes and tell me if they're comfortable for your sensitive royal feet." He scowled at her but proceeded to move around the aisles and the other mortals before he returned.

"These are suitable," he acknowledged.

"Excellent," she replied. She found a few pairs of sneakers for him to choose from and a pair of sandals, Birkenstocks. Explaining the concept of 'tree hugging' would take far too long and she was in a hurry to finish the shopping extravaganza and return home, preferably to hide from Thranduil for a few hours.

The drive back was blissfully silent for a time and Lauren felt herself start to relax.

"You never answered my question," Thranduil mentioned.

"I'm sorry, what question was that?" She asked him dismissively.

"Whether you have such intriguing undergarments of your own," he replied flatly.

"Look, even if I did, why does it matter?" She demanded while she stubbornly kept her eyes fixed on the road.

"I am curious to see them on a real being and not a statue," he replied casually. She practically veered off the road before forcing herself back into the lane. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"You're hilarious, Thranduil," she said with sarcasm. "A true comedian. Perhaps you should give up the monarchy business and go on the road."

"I do not understand what you mean by, 'comedian'," he admitted to her.

"Shut up and don't talk to me," she replied. "I need to figure out a way to get rid of you before I commit regicide."

"You would not dare," he breathed in horror. She grinned at him triumphantly.

"Then I guess you had better pray that we find a way to send you back quickly," she retorted.


	7. Chapter 7

Thranduil found himself completely absorbed in Tolkien's books for the remainder of the week. He was so absorbed, in fact, that he had not noticed the preparations for an event that took place around him.

"It appears that there will be some sort of feast or celebration here," he remarked Friday morning as he casually strolled into her office. He ignored the glare she shot at him and continued to click on the plastic squares and stare at the large picture less than six inches from her face.

"My friend Tim turns forty tomorrow," she told him. "We've been planning a surprise birthday party for him for a couple of months now so a lot of other lowly mortals will come tonight."

He muttered in Sindarin under his breath but waited for her to continue.

"So, anyway, you are welcome to join if you wish," she continued. "Otherwise, I suggest you find something to do with yourself tonight."

Thranduil scowled at her but proceeded to shake his head vigorously.

"Nay," he said, finally. "For I am curious to meet these friends and learn more of your world."

"Great, that means you won't insult, goad, or generally mock them because they are of an inferior race," she replied.

Their interactions had been strained since he confessed his desire to see her in the 'lingerie' he had seen so casually displayed in the shop called Victoria's Secret. He suspected she waited for an apology from him but he refused to provide her with one. Never in his long, long life had he pretended to be remorseful for the truth.

"I shall behave," he bit out.

Eyes shut tightly, Lauren sucked in a deep breath before she opened them to see whether she was presentable. Terri and Roger had agreed to arrive early to assist with the placement of the bar, food, and D.J. The remainder of the guests would arrive about forty-five minutes later, leaving fifteen minutes to hide before Tim's husband Victor arrived with the birthday boy.

She frowned at her appearance. Tim had nagged her for two years to wear a dress and so she had found a short, spaghetti-strap dress that fell just below her knees. Somehow, she had managed to lift half of her hair off her shoulders so that the long locks spilled in waves over shoulders, a half-updo as it was known.

A gentle rap on the door roused her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called out, expecting to hear the familiar clickety-clack of Terri's heels on the wooden floor. Instead, the door creaked open followed by a long silence.

The sound of someone sucking in air caused her to jump and turn around to see Thranduil staring at her. She pressed her hand over her heart in an effort to slow it down.

"You are … stunning," the elf whispered, eyes roving her body before returning to her face.

"I, uh …," she stuttered, unsure of what to say.

"No, you truly are stunning," he continued as he closed the distance between them. "You make that gown appear –"

"Lauren!" A familiar, feminine voice interrupted Thranduil.

"Terri," Lauren said, smiling at the tall, curvaceous red head that appeared in her doorway.

"Oh, uh, am I interrupting something?" She asked, her blue eyes darted between the two.

"No, not at all," Lauren replied. "Andy, this is Terri, one of my nearest and dearest friends. Terri, this is Andy. He's been my guest for the last week or so. Suffering from amnesia of some sort, only remembers his name and a few other things."

Terri's eyes grew wide, predictably, as she took in Thranduil's appearance. Lauren stifled a giggle as she could practically hear the wheels in her friend's head.

"Teresa O'Laughlin," she said, extending her hand toward the man. A charming grin Lauren had never before seen from the elven king spread over his face as he took Terri's hand and pressed a kiss on the top."

"Andy," he offered. Lauren suppressed a groan and rose from the stool in front of her vanity.

"I hate to interrupt your introduction but I'm locking this door to prevent any unwanted guests," she joked. A small stab of jealousy passed over her as she noted how Terri and Thranduil seemed to be locked in some sort of silent exchange. She made a shooing gesture with her hands until they were in the hall.

Ignoring any further conversation between the elf and her friend, she turned on her moderately high heel and returned to the main area of the house where she found Roger looking around helplessly.

"Darling, you know I love you –"

"Roger, this is Tim's party and we don't have much time before the others arrive so please, do your old friend a favor, and just tell me what's wrong," she begged him. The short, auburn haired man grinned at her sheepishly.

"The D.J. has canceled for the night," he told her. "He has offered a full refund, of course."

"Wonderful," she replied sarcastically.

Thranduil flashed his most charming smile at the red-headed woman. A light flush colored her cheeks, though their eyes met with what he could clearly see was desire. He felt no lust toward the mortal woman as she reminded him of the mortals of Rohan with their pale skin, exhausted eyes, and wild hair.

"So, you really have amnesia?" The woman named Terri asked him coyly.

"As it would appear," Thranduil replied. "However, Lauren has been a most caring, gracious hostess. Have you known her long?" The red head sauntered toward him, hips swaying seductively. He noted the skirt she wore fell at least an inch above her knees.

"We go way, way back," Terri replied, smiling at him. She was less than half a foot shorter than he, as tall as any maiden of the realms of Men or elves. "We attended the university together."

"University?" Thranduil repeated.

"Yes, you know, higher education," she prodded him. She reached out and adjusted the collar of his shirt. He fought the urge to move away from the woman as she toyed with the fabric. "Lauren is very smart, book smart that is. In matters of the heart, she sometimes reminds me of a child."

The elven king frowned at her characterization of Lauren. This was a woman who rarely heard the word 'no' and had never been rejected in her life. Terri had no idea that he did not find her attractive.

"She is very intelligent," he agreed, stepping away from her. Her mouth dropped open slightly in response to his reaction but the same charming grin returned to his face as he offered her his arm.

"Would you permit me the honor of escorting you downstairs?" Thranduil heard himself say to her. Batting her dark eyelashes at him, she linked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her downstairs where he would meet more of her friends and, perhaps, uncover more of her secrets.

Roger's jaw slacked slightly. Lauren did not need to turn to know her friend was in awe of the fine physical specimen of male elf who had apparently just appeared behind her.

"Girlfriend, who is that yummy piece of manhood who just came downstairs with Terri?" He whispered to her.

"That's Andy, Roger," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Come on, I'll introduce you." Roger put on his best performance to win the favor of the blonde stranger, hence winning the silent competition with Terri. Thranduil graciously shook hands with the shorter man but she could feel his eyes on her.

'I don't have time to babysit royal hypersensitivity,' she thought before she turned to her entertainment center and her iPod. She trusted Roger to control and change the songs and playlists as needed. Nevertheless, she started the evening with some Oasis while the other party-goers started to arrive.

"You're not sleeping with him?" Terri's question startled her and she looked up from the table where she had laid the birthday card for her friend.

"Who?" Lauren asked, although she knew perfectly well to whom Terri referred.

"Oh, come off it Lauren," her friend scoffed. "He's positively yummy."

"That's one word for him, though not necessarily the one I would choose," she grumbled.

"Do you plan to –"

"Dear gods, no!" Lauren replied, horrified.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I got a little friendlier with him tonight?" Terri pressed her friend. A wave of jealousy passed over her as she realized that, once more, her best friend would secure a man for the night while most males did not even bother to look twice at her.

"That's between you and he, my friend," Lauren replied. "But just remember, you promised to help me with party." Terri emitted a light, girly giggle in response. Lauren rolled her eyes and silently prayed Terri would take the elf home for the night.

'Won't she be in for a surprise,' she thought.

"Yes, once upon a time, Lauren and Tim worked together at a publishing house," she heard Roger's voice across the room.

"A publishing house?" Thranduil replied, confused. She rolled her eyes as she watched Roger step a little closer to the elf. Sometimes, she was sure her friend thought he could change a man's sexual orientation through the sheer force of his personality.

Terri followed her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"Yeah, that was not something I was going to trust to a caterer," she remarked off-handedly. "Cardboard cake is not a happy memory for any party." Terri chuckled and proceeded to close the door. The two waiters from the company continued to move around her as they prepared to put out the food for the evening, seemingly oblivious to the two women.

"So tell me more about Andy," Terri drawled.

"Tell you _more_?" Lauren asked incredulously. "I've told you everything _I_ know about him."

"How did he come to stay here then?" Terri pressed, adjusting the strap on her shoes. Terri was a good eight inches taller than she and tended to wear flats to reduce the 'intimidation factor' as Lauren had named it.

"Somehow, he wandered onto my property and passed out," she replied, shrugging.

"You didn't take him to the hospital?" Terri gasped, as if she had committed some mortal sin.

"I tried but he wouldn't let me," Lauren lied smoothly. "Something about hospitals terrified him. He didn't have any injuries, just lost his memories. I couldn't find any type of I.D. on him so I offered to let him stay here until he either got his memory back or until we figure out who he is and where he's from."

Terri's eyes were as round as saucers at this point.

"You are such a bleeding heart," she remarked, taking a small, diminutive bite of a baby carrot.

"Eh, I guess I hold out hope that someone else will do the same for me if I ever find myself in this situation," she replied casually. "Besides, he's a pretty good houseguest, cleans up after himself, and he's quiet. That's more than I can say for a lot of people who visit." Terri rolled her eyes at her friend's joke.

"You're hilarious tonight," she said. Lauren shrugged and left the busy room. The doorbell rang and the stream of guests began.


	8. Chapter 8

Thranduil felt equal parts of annoyance and amusement. Not since his years as a princeling had females flocked to him the way they did that night, which stroked his ego and given him a surge of male pride. The women were attractive, but not nearly as beautiful as the little hostess who could occasionally be seen flitting from one part of her house to another. He pushed the thought away and reminded himself his presence was another step toward his objective.

They were all mortal women anyway, many of whom seemed to have no ability to carry on a conversation intelligently. The woman Terri had taken it upon herself to introduce him to as many people in the room as she knew while she clung to his arm, chattering inanely. Meanwhile, he had managed to gather information and interesting tales about Lauren from the people who knew her.

His annoyance stemmed from the fact he had not had another chance to speak with her since the celebration began. Thranduil knew she was intentionally ignoring him, though he had not yet determined why.

When the mortals started to dance he found himself watching in fascination, as their movements were so different from the elven dances he knew. Some danced in ways that would be considered indecent in Arda and others politely and gracefully swirled around the floor.

"Would you care to dance?" Thranduil finally asked his red-headed companion. Her eyes grew wide like a small child who had been given an unexpected piece of cake.

"I would be delighted, Andy," she replied, purring his name, and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. The elf made certain to keep a respectful amount of distance between them. As she had imbibed more alcohol, her designs on bedding him that night had become apparent, even to his distracted mind.

When the music changed to something a little faster and more seductive, judging by the change in styles he saw on the floor, Thranduil excused himself politely to 'use the facilities' which Lauren had explained was the proper way of stating one needed to relieve himself and also as an excuse to leave an uncomfortable situation.

In truth, Thranduil merely wanted a glass of the strongest alcohol he could find. When he returned with his glass of whiskey, he noted Terri had moved to a different part of the room to speak with Roger. That was when he noticed her outside the group of mortals, dancing, a genuine smile on her beautiful face and her eyes lit up with joy while she laughed at something one of the nameless men said to her.

The king of Eryn Lesgalen felt a strong wave of possessiveness and emitted a growl in the direction of Lauren's would-be suitors.

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With a mischievous smile, Tim grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the makeshift floor. He pulled her against him so that his left thigh was lodged between her legs, his other hand rested on her lower back just above her ass, as they began to move together to the seductive lyrics of Melissa Etheridge.

"Are you enjoying your party?" Lauren asked her friend. Tim rewarded her with an enormous smile.

"Yes, I am," he replied. "You guys are the best." She smiled at him. He had been sliding into a depression for the past month as his fortieth birthday approached. "And somehow, George didn't let it slip even once that you had planned this."

Tim and George had been partners for fifteen years and never once did either seem to have any doubt of their love for each other. Her mind drifted briefly back to her conversation with Thranduil about love. Some people were lucky enough to find it forever and others were not.

"It was on pain of death," she told him, winking at him. "Terri threatened to pour sugar in his gas tank and I promised he would be wearing ice-cold underwear for months."

"Hmm, then it's too bad," he mused. "I would have enjoyed helping that venture."

The remainder of the guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, growing more inebriated with their many trips to the open bar. Lauren spied Thranduil in a corner o fthe dance floor and marveled at how the six-foot-three-inch elf managed to blend into his surroundings so easily.

"So what's up with you and blondie?" Tim asked her suddenly.

"Blondie?" She repeated, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, the tall, gorgeous blonde over there with the amazing blue eyes," Tim clarified in a teasing tone.

"Ugh," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. "He's a random guy who got hurt on my property and has amnesia. He's been here since that storm a little over a week ago."

"Why not just drop him in town?" Tim asked, quirking a eyebrow over one of his chestnut-brown eyes.

"No money, no identification, that would be a _really_ good idea," she snarked to him.

"Oh, I thought it might have something to do with the fact he can't keep his eyes off of you," he teased her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Please," she groaned. "I'm not his type. He has an ego the size of Texas. The sooner I can find out where he's from, or some family members, the sooner I have my house to myself again."

"I don't think you should be in quite such a hurry to be rid of him," Tim countered. "When was the last time you got laid?" She playfully slapped his shoulder.

"A long time," he answered his own question, smirking at her.

"Actually, I've encourage Terri to take him off my hands for the night," she said slyly. Tim groaned and shook his head in mock woe.

"You really don't like him very much, do you?" He asked her.

"I think they'd be perfect for each other," she replied in a mock huff.

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "The only bed that one wants to be in tonight is yours."

"Right," she said sarcastically. "I don't think he or his entourage will agree with you."

"Honey, I may be gay but I still have a better understanding of the male mind, even the straight ones," he replied. Lauren watched as Thranduil approached Tim from behind and tapped his shoulder.

"May I?" He asked the younger man. Lauren could see the steely determination in his dark blue eyes. He would not accept 'no' as an answer. Tim flashed Lauren a broad grin.

"Please," he replied, shoving the elf and woman together before he wandered away.

"Your majesty," she acknowledged his presence. His soothing scent washed over her and she was momentarily lost in him.

"My lady," he replied in a low voice, arms clasping her waist as he pressed her body against his. Gingerly, she wrapped one arm around his neck and placed the other on his shoulder as their bodies seemingly merged together. Something hard pressed against her lower abdomen and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced up to see Thranduil's intense gaze on her.

She shivered at his proximity as her mind raced for a way to gracefully remove herself from the situation. If he thought attempting to seduce her would speed the process of sending him home, he was sorely mistaken. One thing she had learned about her royal-pain-in-the-ass houseguest was that he enjoyed pranks, games, and competition.

'This has got to be some weird, fucked up game he's playing,' she thought to herself.

"Oh, shit, I just remembered I forgot to put Tim's birthday card out with the gifts," she told him while she pushed away. "Excuse me."

Years of self-discipline stopped her from looking back at him.

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Thranduil's eyes remained fixed on her form until she disappeared. He had watched her place her card on the table with the gifts and cards from the other party-goers. He frowned as he considered the crude method he chose to inform her that he found her attractive.

'How can that be?' He thought angrily. 'She is a mortal woman. No matter how beautiful she is she pales when compared to that of homeliest of ellyth.'

"Hey Andy, are you alright?" Terri asked with superficial concern. He offered her a tight smile while she placed her hand sympathetically on his shoulder. Thranduil could smell the odor of the alcohol emitted from her pores. The smell sickened him while the urge to find Lauren overpowered him. Almost like … an instinct.

"I believe I need to step outside for a few moments and collect my thoughts," he explained to her. Terri nodded her head a few times, her blood-shot eyes no longer hid the lust she thought she had discreetly directed toward him.

"Pardon me," he said, turning away from the red-head to find the hostess. He was greeted on all sides by intoxicated mortals, some openly leered at him while others simply had lost themselves in the induced feeling of peace and happiness.

'Not unlike the Eldar,' he thought wryly. He pushed the errant thought away while he continued to scan the group for Lauren. He spied a familiar face outside the kitchen, 'Roger' as Thranduil remembered Terri's introduction earlier in the evening. The short, chestnut-haired man eyed him as if he was some sort of delicacy.

"Pardon me," Thranduil began politely, a smile on his face. "I seek Lauren. Have you seen her recently?" Roger sighed and shook his head mournfully. Thranduil's heart dropped but he waited.

"Oh honey, if only you weren't so straight," the mortal sighed. Thranduil bit back the urge to tell him that even in terms of male beauty, Roger was no credit to his race. Confidence was clearly attractive to those without, judging by the rapt attention he received from a younger, raven-haired mortal.

"Outside," Roger said dismissively. The monarch was uncertain whether he should be grateful for an easy dismissal or insulted for treatment from a commoner. He nodded his thanks and proceeded to wind his way through the guests toward the sliding glass door.

Lauren was shrouded in a part of the patio where the light from the house did not reach. She was either unaware of his presence or ignoring him. Her eyes were fixed on some point far away as was her mind.

Without warning, he sidled up beside her and imitated her posture. When she did not jump or show any other sign of being startled, Thranduil knew she was trying to ignore him.

"Did you find the card that you had already placed on the table?" He asked her. She dipped her head down in acknowledgment of the lie she told.

"I forgot," she replied evenly. "I'm only human. That happens sometimes."

"Lauren, I … wish to apologize to you for my lewd behavior during our dance," he said softly. He tilted his head slightly to the side to observe her reaction.

"It's alright, no harm done, right?" She replied, refusing to look at him. Thranduil felt grateful he would not be forced to explain his actions further.

"Look, let's just forget about it," she suggested. A light breeze caught her long, chestnut locks and blew them around her face and head. Thranduil found himself entranced by the lovely image she presented.

"I cannot," he murmured, catching some of the soft tendrils. He gently rolled her soft hair between his fingers. "I am ashamed."

"Thranduil, relax, it's okay," she replied, turning to face him. "It's just the alcohol. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

She had presented him with a graceful escape for his behavior. Millennia of diplomatic relations dictated that he accept her offer but he found himself unwilling to leave her side. He attempted to rationalize his behavior as simple appeasement of the only mortal who could help him go home.

A contrary voice in the back of his mind reminded him that if it was simple appeasement he would have returned to the party. Had he been home, he would have been in the thick of the celebration with all of the charm and wit necessary to offset his reputation as an eccentric.

"You do not appear to be enjoying yourself," he said softly, simply to quiet the internal debate.

"Well, I'm not used to hosting parties so I guess I'm just concerned that something could go wrong," she said, turning away. "I want Tim to have pleasant memories of tonight."

"You should be proud then," he said. "The guests are enjoying themselves and your friend appears to be happy." He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by someone slurring his mortal 'nickname'.

"Hey Terri," Lauren greeted her friend. "You look like you're three sheets to the wind."

"Ugh, woman, I can handle my liquor," she scoffed. "Andy, I wondered where you disappeared to. Good thing I came outside." The red head stumbled in her impossibly high stilettos and Thranduil watched his hostess press a hand over her mouth, presumably to stop herself from laughing out loud.

"Anyway, it's time for the birthday boy to sing and cut the cake," she continued after she had smoothed her dress of nonexistent wrinkles. Before he could object, she had linked her arm through his and pulled him in the direction of the door.

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Lauren's face hurt from smiling so much from nearly an hour of good-byes to the party goers. Fortunately, most of them had designated drivers or arranged to be picked up by taxis or family members. Her relief felt palpable; most would return home safely that night.

The caterers had done a remarkable job. In addition to the food, they had cleaned up her kitchen and taken care of the inevitable trash that lay about the house. Furniture had been moved but that was easily remedied. She resolved to straighten up the remainder in the morning.

She swore she heard voices as she neared the stairs.

"I am flattered by your invitation, truly," Thranduil said.

"But you won't come home with me?" Terri asked him. Lauren wedged herself into a corner where she would not be noticed.

"Alas, Miss Terri, no," he replied. "You are a lovely woman, truly. But I do not feel the same sort of attraction toward you as you do to me."

"Oh, but you could pretend that I am whoever you want me to be," Terri purred. Lauren could hardly believe her ears. It was so unlike her friend to actually beg a male to sleep with her, yet she was begging. She thought about it wryly, grateful the elf had not asserted his hatred and disgust of mortals as his reason to reject her.

Terri needed the rejection for once but she still felt slightly insulted on her friend's behalf.

"You could pretend I'm Lauren," she added a moment later.

"I am quite certain I do not understand your meaning," he replied stiffly. She took that as a cue to retreat to the kitchen for a well-earned glass of whiskey. She was far too sober to listen to any more.

As she was screwing on the cap she heard the clickety-clack of Terri's shoes against the stone tiles.

"Pour one for me, will you?" She groused. Lauren grinned and complied with her friend's request.

"Where's Thr – Andy?" Lauren asked her friend. "I thought I was getting an empty house tonight?" Terri slumped against the counter, red ringlets hung in a disheveled cloud around her face.

"I don't know and I don't care," Terri snapped.

"Sweetie, take off your shoes," Lauren encouraged her. "The party is over and you know I don't care that you walk around barefoot."

"I've already called a cab," Terri sniffed. "I can't believe this."

"What?" Lauren replied, draining her glass. "What can't you believe?"

"You know, you may laugh and mock me but this is truly the first time in my life that I've failed to seduce a man I want in my bed," Terri replied. Lauren shrugged and refilled her glass.

"I'm sorry?" She asked her friend. Terri waved her hand in front of her face in a dismissive gesture.

"He couldn't keep his eyes off of you," Terri finally admitted. "Can you imagine how that made me feel?" Anger and betrayal curled within Lauren as she attempted to swallow the insult with as much grace as possible.

"You're imagining things," Lauren tried to dismiss her friend's concern. "I'm sure if the opportunity presents itself again – "

Her speech was cut off by the sound of a loud horn outside. The women looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

"That's my ride," Terri said softly.

"Hmm, well, don't think you're off the hook," Lauren warned her in a playful voice. Terri rolled her eyes. They hugged one another before Terri slipped through the door.


	9. Chapter 9

Sleep refused to come to him that night. His mind was troubled with the mixture of thoughts and emotions he had never before experienced. His thoughts turned to his son and what Legolas would say if he saw his adar confused and even a little vulnerable.

'What has she done to me?!' He thought to himself, running his hand through his hair as he continued to pace the length of his room. Finally, he gave up and decided to go to the first floor where he would have much more room to pace.

Just as he stepped onto the first step, Thranduil heard a noise downstairs and he stopped. He continued to listen until he could distinguish the gentle sound of small feet moving against the wooden floor. He cursed his lack of weaponry but proceeded downstairs, one step at a time, as his mind formulated a plan to seize and immobilize the intruder.

Obscured by shadows, the elf moved across the floor toward the source of the noise. A figure seemingly lumbered around the 'living room,' as Lauren called it, aimlessly. Within seconds, he had immobilized the intruder and had pinned the man against the wall.

"Thranduil, what the hell are you doing?" Lauren's familiar voice hissed.

"Lauren?" Replied the confused elf king. He released her wrists and immediately spun her around in his arms so that he could face her.

"Really, we must stop meeting in creepy dark places like this," she remarked sarcastically. In spite of himself, Thranduil grinned at her words and the grin grew even larger when he noted how close together they stood. He had trapped her against the wall and he had no intention of simply allowing her to walk away at that moment.

Part of him wished he had not. His elven eyesight allowed him to see that she wore a shirt without sleeves and short breeches, so short in fact, that he could see the entirety of her long, slender legs. He closed his eyes for a moment to force back his physical reaction.

"Do you typically skulk about your home in such a state of undress?" He asked her, teasingly.

"How the hell can you even … wait, I forgot, elvish eyesight," she said. "So? I thought you were asleep and besides, it's my damn house!" Hardened nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of her shirt. More than anything, he wanted to take those pert breasts into his hands and massage them.

"I am not complaining," he replied slyly. The scowl on her face did not detract from her beauty. Her face round with high cheekbones, a diminutive nose, and a tiny mouth with perfectly sized lips, lips he desperately wanted to taste. He detected a slight unevenness to her face but it did not detract in the slightest from her appearance. Her slight imperfection did serve to remind him that she was mortal.

Her hazel-green eyes, however, haunted the elf king. He found he could stare into her eyes until he felt as if he would fall inside of her. Propriety alone prevented him from engaging in such rude, uncomfortable behavior. In spite of all of the ethereal beauty possessed by his own kin, hers was the only beauty that had ever truly enraptured him.

"Fabulous," she replied, though not as confidently as she might otherwise. He was secretly thrilled that she seemed to be as affected by his proximity as he was to hers. "Well, now that you know I'm not a burglar or killer, would you kindly release me?"

Thranduil paused a moment, unable to resist the opportunity to continue teasing her.

"No, I think not," he replied calmly. "Your utter disregard for my rest, and my selfless concern for your wellbeing, are what brought me here in the first place."

He stifled his laughter while she started to struggle violently against him, to no avail. He was far stronger than she and keeping her pinned to the wall required no effort. Finally she stopped.

"Will his majesty please release me?" She asked him in a syrupy sweet tone. No longer able to hold in his amusement, he burst out laughing at her sudden change in tactics.

"Why Lauren, such formal use of my title," he observed. "But I prefer it when you address me by my name."

"Thranduil, would you please release me?" She tried again. She felt a single, long finger pressed against her mouth to silence her.

"Shh, I am quite distracted right now with something beautiful," he whispered, leaning forward and tilting his slightly to gently capture her lips.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX

Lauren had been kissed many times in her life. Some kisses had been entirely lackluster, others messy and unappealing, and some had taken her breath away or made her heart flutter. Thranduil's kiss was like nothing she had ever before experienced.

His lips were softer than any man's, even as they merely brushed against hers experimentally. She was so shocked, she could only stare at him in the darkness before his lips claimed hers again in a much longer kiss. The elf repeated the same gesture three or four times before she heard him take in a deep breath, then gently run his tongue along her lower lip.

When she gasped her surprise, his tongue had penetrated her mouth and started a gentle exploration of its contours. She felt the tip of his tongue trace the inside of her lips, teasing her. The iron-like vise around her wrists disappeared and she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pressing her closer.

Lauren's mind screamed at her to push him away. Her body, however, did not cooperate and she found herself trapped in his arms, waiting for the worst. Yet, his hands never strayed from her lower back and he continued to kiss her with the same intensity.

Curiosity drove her to reach up and thread her hands through his hair, which elicited a sigh. The tresses felt like pure silk between her fingers and she relished the way they slid over her skin. Feeling a little braver, she brought her hand down to trace the outer shell of his hear and the delicate point at the top.

Thranduil's hand clamped down on hers and tugged it away from his face. He brought his forehead down against hers and she heard him panting softly.

"I am sorry," he said. "An elf's ears are very sensitive."

"Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered.

"No, melamin, you did not hurt me," he replied, mirth in his voice. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

A red crimson blush crept into her face and she attempted to pull away from him. Her mind was reeling with questions, fears, doubts, and a strong urge to run as far and as fast as she could away from him. As if he sensed her thoughts, Thranduil tightened his embraced slightly.

"I'm sorry, Thranduil," she said softly. She felt him curl his index beneath her chin and raise it so that she was forced to look into his face, though she was still unable to make out his features in the darkness.

"Nay, apologize not for I receive great pleasure from your touch, Lauren," he whispered. "The fault is mine for my presumption and I fear tonight I steadily destroyed the little trust you may have had in me."

He released her before he turned and walked back to the stairs, disappearing into the shadows. With a heavy sigh, she attempted to force her heart to slow while she regained control. Every time she thought they had reached some sort of truce, he did something else to throw her off balance.

A lingering fear in the back of her mind nagged at her to be careful. He was an ancient creature who had no trouble balancing multiple agendas and he had never denied his hatred for humans. Nevertheless, he shed the cold, disdainful façade more and more often and allowed her to see what he was within.

Biting her lip, she turned toward the large bay window and shifted her thoughts back to finding a way to send him back to Middle Earth.


	10. Chapter 10

Hours of research and a near-migraine later, Lauren found herself outside the door of the town's oldest and most respected 'magic' shop at the very edge of town. The newer residents of the town described it as a 'new age establishment before new age was hip.' Long-timers and old-timers called it a magic store and the proprietor, Madame Laurel.

'A witch who donates a great deal of money to the town for any number of causes,' she smirked silently.

She glanced up at the ornate wrought iron sign, 'Dimensions' framed by the blocks of familiar-looking marks, all in gold paint. Thranduil merely stared at the sign, as if entranced. His face darkened and he leveled one of his famous angry glares at her.

"You said there were no elves in this world," he hissed at her, lifting his arm up to indicate the sign. Unbeknownst to her, her face had twisted into a expression of mixed disbelief and annoyance with the elf's reaction.

"There aren't and I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she replied. "Now come on, this is the closest thing to an answer I've been able to find thus far." 'And probably the only one as well,' she thought to herself sadly.

Incense hung heavily in the air and the shop was illuminated with some candles and natural light from the window. She heard a bell ring and assumed it was to alert someone that there was a customer.

"Welcome to Dimensions," came a voice somewhere behind the counter. A moment later, a tall woman appeared behind the counter. Her hair was covered with a veil but she could still see the auburn tresses and a twinkle in her eye. She appeared to be no more than fifty years old, dressed in long multicolored robes decorated with sequins and small rhinestones.

"How can I help you two young people?" She asked with a smile, her eyes darting from Lauren to Thranduil. A protective hand was placed on her hip and she heard a low growl from the elf. When she attempted to step away from him, his grip tightened.

"Well, Madame Laurel, my name is Lauren Rochford and this is my friend, Andy," she gestured lackadaisically. The woman nodded her head and seemed to wait for Lauren to continue.

"I was hoping we could talk to you about something that … you might find very strange but frankly ma'am, I'm running low on ideas," she continued, averting her eyes. The woman smiled kindly and gestured for them to follow her through the curtain. Slightly uneasy, she started after the proprietor but was tugged backward.

"I do not think we should follow her," he said in a low voice. "Something does not feel right to me."

"Look, Obi Wan, I'm pretty sure that you can handle yourself against a mortal woman, should she attack you and all," Lauren replied sarcastically. "Besides, all mortals make you uneasy. That's why you hate us all, remember? Or have you already forgotten the broken mirror a few days ago?" With that, she attempted to storm away but the elf kept a firm grip on her hip.

"You shall not leave my sight," he hissed in her ear.

"Pardon me?" She asked him, her tone clearly indicated her disbelief.

XXXXX

Thranduil had a darkly uncertain feeling about the mortal called Madame Laurel. Lauren appeared to trust others far too easily and, though she mocked him for his caution, his warrior's instincts had been triggered before they even the shop. The Tangwar on the sign outside had shocked him: 'If ye understand these words, come forth and you may seek the counsel of the lady within.'

He stepped in front of Lauren to shield her from any dark magic, or more physical dangers. Behind the curtain was a short hallway lined with doors on each side. Each door was labeled with what he presumed was the contents within. The very last door was open and that was where he saw Madam Laurel seated at a round table covered in red velvet. A tall white candle had been placed in the center along with a ceremonial-style dagger and a bowl.

"Now, go ahead and tell me about this fantastic thing you need my help with," she encouraged. Thranduil managed to listen to the first five minutes of Lauren's explanation, until his attention was caught by the light glinting from something golden-colored. Fascinated, he stood and moved across the room toward the object.

"Please do not touch my things," Madame Laurel's voice broke through the fog.

"Uh, I apologize, one thing I have learned about Andy is that he has ADD," Lauren said apologetically. "Andy! Andy!" She called to him, patting the chair beside her. The instant he sat down he felt Lauren's fingers interlace through his, and hold tightly, as if to keep him in place. The king smirked at the mortal's futile efforts but decided to humor her.

"What is your true name?" Madame Laurel looked at him directly.

"My true name is Thranduil, son of Orophir, of the House of Greenleaf," Thranduil replied, surprised.

"Thranduil Orophirion," she mused, violet eyes studying his face. Uncomfortable, Thranduil focused his coldest, most detached glare to the woman.

"You think we're crazy, don't you?" Lauren sighed. Thranduil looked at her and gently squeezed her hand in reassurance. Immediately, she snatched her hand away from him and brought it to rest in her lap.

"No, I do not think you're crazy," Madame Laurel replied with a click of her tongue. "Really, child, do I look like I'm in a position to judge?" She gestured around the room and drew a smile from his friend.

"Point taken," she replied. Then she sighed in frustration. "How can he go home?"

Madame Laurel folded her hands on the table before her. She had long, narrow fingers and her fingernails had painted with some type of red paint. He tilted his head to study the fingers more closely and attempt to place the reason why they seemed so familiar to him.

"That, I do not know," Madame Laurel said with a sigh. "But, that does not mean we cannot discover a way to send King Thranduil home. Usually, the key to finding a solution is to determine the source of the problem. In this case, why he came here."

"You don't think it was an accident then," Lauren asked, her face falling further.

"No, this happened for a reason," the older woman said. "Beings do not simply cross realms and realities. This was done intentionally and required a good deal of energy and magic to make that happen.

"Let me speak with Thranduil alone for a few moments. Just wait outside for him." Thranduil felt her hand slip out of his and the panic rose in his chest. He could not protect her if she was too far away from him. Nevertheless, she gave him a smile of encouragement and disappeared from the room.

Suppressing his anger, he turned toward the strange mortal woman and waited. She folded her hands and rested her chin on top.

"I swear on my life, she will be fine," Madame Laurel told him with a maternal smile. "Though you should tell her how you truly feel about her, Master Elf." Thranduil continued to stare at her without an outward reaction.

"Why did you send Lauren away?" He demanded.

"She distracts you and I need for you to concentrate," she replied with a shrug. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the woman but said nothing more. The sooner he learned his purpose, the sooner he could return to her and the sooner he could leave the strange realm of Earth.

"Now, you need to cut the palm of your hand," she continued. "Allow your blood to drip until the bottom is covered."

"Do you force all of your customers to do this?" Thranduil snapped at her.

"I doubt the wound will still be open by the time you leave my establishment, highness," she replied. "And no, very rarely do I perform any of these rituals with any other, much less ask someone else to perform it himself. Humanity is not as open-minded about magic as it once was."

Thranduil made a deep gash and watched the blood pour down his fist into the bowl and pool. She held up a hand to indicate he could stop once the very bottom was coated, handing him a white kerchief. Taking the candle from the holder, she used some sort of incendiary device to melt the wax at the base, watching small droplets mix with his blood before pushing down to the bottom. She then handed him the device.

"Is this flint?" He asked her.

"In a manner of speaking," she replied, igniting the metal object before returning it to him. "You must light the candle." A tiny flame appeared on the wick and Madame Laurel quickly seized the metal flint from his hand, closing it with a snapping noise.

"Now, concentrate on seeking the one voice in the mists," she told him, her eyes closed. "Allow your desire for truth, for knowledge come to the fore, and the one who carries the answers to appear with it."

Thranduil attempted to do as the mortal told him but his thoughts repeatedly strayed to Lauren and to his son. Madame Laurel's eyes snapped open, unseeing and empty, unfocused on any particular thing. A chill traveled down spine but he ignored it.

**"Welcome, Thranduil King,"** she said in Sindarin. **"You have called upon me for answers."**

**"Who are you?"** He said suspiciously. **"Why did you send me here?"**

**"Oh ho, so demanding still,"** she replied. **"Remove the king from his kingdom but the ruler remains."**

**"This is nonsense, riddles!" **He exclaimed in frustration.

**"I am Manwe, you know of me,"** she continued. **"You are here because it is your destiny to be here."**

**"It was my destiny to be the ruler of Greenwood as well," **he grumbled under his breath. Manwe tilted his head slightly to the left, carefully watching the elf.

**"Too true, son of Orophir,"** Manwe replied. **"But that is only part of what fate has decreed for you. You have two tasks to accomplish if you wish to return to Middle Earth. While I cannot provide you with details I shall tell you that one involves your son and the other, your soul."**

**"Why can you not just tell me what I am to do?!"** Thranduil exclaimed. Manwe tilted his head to the other side and smiled at him, not a friendly smile but one of cunning.

**"Then you will simply complete the tasks but never understand the reasons for them,"** Manwe replied. **"You cannot reach your destination unless you undergo the journey."**

**"How long do I have to complete these tasks?"** The king asked.

** "Until the apocalypse, of course,"** Manwe replied. **"Though I strongly caution you against waiting so long. Time is as much your friend as your enemy."** Thranduil frowned at the cryptic words.

**"I have told you all that I can, son of Orophir,"** Manwe continued, the smile fading from his face. **"May Elbereth see fit to bestow his grace upon you. Farewell." **

XXXXX

Lauren scrolled through the news headlines on her phone, completely disinterested. Thranduil had been inside with Madame Laurel for nearly an hour. Intense curiosity practically drove her back inside to eavesdrop on the conversation but she decided against it. A royal tantrum was not something she wished to witness.

She tried not to think of her early morning rendezvous with Thranduil. Yet, even as she attempted to distract herself she found herself reliving the pressure of his mouth against hers and the sensation of his large hands on her lower back.

A moment later, a set of feet smacked against the concrete step behind her.

"If there is anything more I can do, just let me know," Madame Laurel said to Thranduil. The elf appeared to be completely shaken by whatever it was he had seen or heard. Lauren rose to her feet and brushed off imaginary dirt.

"Madame Laurel," she said. The woman clasped her hand like a mother seeking to provide comfort.

"I fear there will be some dark days ahead," she said quite seriously.

"All you have to do is ask for your donation," the younger woman replied with a heavy sigh.

"No, child, I cannot," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. "All I ask is that no matter what comes, do not lose faith."

Lauren shot a confused look at the elf who was rubbing his right palm absently. She wondered if he had broken something and injured himself in the process. He would hide his injury from her so as not to appear weak.

"Well, thank you for your time and your help," she said.

"Mae govennan, Thranduil Orophirion," she said to the elf. "Good luck Lauren."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was completely lost in thought. Something had happened that had effectively silenced the pompous ruler.

"Come on," she told him as he followed her to her car.

"Where are you taking me now?" He asked her warily.

"To engage in a very important, yet common, mortal ritual," she replied. Something flashed in his eyes.

"And that would be?" He queried.

"Coffee and brooding," she replied matter-of-factly. She heard his soft laughter beside her and considered that a small victory.

Middlewood had a locally-owned coffee shop that had recently expanded its offerings to include wraps, sandwiches, soups, and salads, so that it was more like a café than a simple coffee shop. With Thranduil trailing her, she opened the door and practically burst out laughing when all of the women in the room looked up and stared.

"Lauren, who is _this_?" Deanna Moore, the daughter of the owners, slid up to the cash register and smiled. The girl was several years younger than she and in her last year at Penn State, majoring in nursing. She was tall, pretty, with long ash-blonde hair and baby blue eyes.

"Deanna, hey, this is my friend Andy," she introduced him. Deanna held out her hand, eyes completely fixed on him. "Andy, this is Deanna Moore. Her parents own this awesome place and she occasionally leaves the kitchen to grace us with her presence when she is home from school."

Thranduil lifted the girl's hand and pressed a kiss to the top.

"An honor to meet you Deanna," he said, holding her stare. Surprisingly, she felt a sharp stab of jealousy in her stomach at the gesture.

'It's just the chivalry from his time,' she reminded herself. 'Besides, I have no reason to care since I'm about to find out how to permanently evict him from my house.'

"Andy is starting to recover from amnesia," Lauren rushed ahead to say quickly. "I suggested coffee as a way to maybe trigger some more constructive memories."

"I see," Deanna replied, keeping her stare fixed on him. "Well, if there's anything I can do to help."

"That's very kind of you, thank you," he replied.

She ordered two coffees then led him outside to a shaded table. The day was slightly overcast but rain was expected in the evening. She leaned backward, lifting her legs to rest them on the chair beside him.

"How does one perform this ritual?" He asked her.

"Hush, Andy, I'm brooding," she teased him. He smiled at her and moved her foot back and forth with his hand.

"You wish to know what occurred with Madame Laurel, correct?" He asked her.

"Well, honestly, yes but if you don't want to talk about it, I'll leave it," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. She would be damned if she allowed him to see her burning curiosity.

"It was curious," he began. "She called herself a 'psychic medium' and said this meant she could communicate with great forces. First, she made me cut my hand –" Lauren gasped before she could stop herself. " – and bleed into a bowl before placing a candle inside and told me to light it."

Lauren grabbed his left hand and examined it closely. The only sign of a wound was a long, light pink scar that appeared to be fading. Gently, she ran her index finger over it but he covered her hand with his.

"I am an elf, melamin," he told her. "We heal quickly." She nodded and pulled her hand from his. She thought she saw disappointment in his face but shook it off when he leaned backward, totally unaffected by their closeness.

"So go on," she encouraged him. He smiled softly at her.

"Are you familiar with our … gods in Arda?" He asked her suddenly. Lauren considered his words a moment, wondering to what he was referring. Then she recalled the stories of the Valar, Elbereth, and the Halls of Mandos from Tolkien's books.

"The Valar and Elbereth," she said out loud, more for her own benefit than to answer his question. He nodded slowly before he pressed his fingertips together.

"One of the Valar is called Manwe," he told her. "Manwe spoke to me through Madame Laurel."

'When you talk to God, it's called prayer. When God talks back, it's called schizophrenia,' she thought to herself, wryly.

"What did he tell you?" She demanded, her tone serious.

"He said that my destiny was not complete and that I was sent here to complete two tasks," he told her. Lauren nodded her head thoughtfully, wondering if elven standards of mental illness were anything like those of humans.

"And what are these tasks?" She asked him.

"He would not give me specifics!" Thranduil replied, running a frustrated hand through his loose hair. "He would only tell me that one task involved my son and the other involved my soul."

"Oh, that sounds deep," she replied, averting her eyes while she took another sip of coffee.

"You do not believe me," he surmised.

"No, I never said that," she protested quickly, too quickly.

"You think I am mad," he continued.

"Thranduil, listen to me for five seconds, okay?" She said, taking her foot off the chair and leaning forward to demonstrate how seriously she considered this encounter. "First of all, I wasn't there and I have no reason not to believe you. Second, well, in our world, God doesn't deign us worthy to talk to us so in my experience, it's just a difficult concept to wrap my head around." She shrugged and leaned her weight back in the chair.

"Did you ask Madame Laurel what she thought Manwe meant?" Lauren rushed forward before the elf could explode.

"She said that the way Manwe spoke, the nature of my tasks would be revealed in time," he replied. Lauren nodded her head thoughtfully. The gods in Middle Earth were as cryptic as humanity's gods in her world.

"Well, you have time then," she said. "You are immortal."

XXXXX

Thranduil felt uneasy as he recalled Manwe's warning about time as an enemy. He did not understand, since his fate involved his soul and son, both as immortal as he. How could time be an enemy to him?

Beneath hooded eyes he watched the woman sip her coffee and avoid his stare. He feared she did not believe him and that no matter what he said or did, he would be unable to convince her otherwise. Suddenly, he felt very alone and, as a result, very sad and lost.

"What must I do for you to believe me?" He asked her quietly.

"Thranduil, hey," she said, brow furrowed as she reached across the table and took his left hand in hers. Her touch calmed him unlike anything else. "I believe that _you_ believe it. That's good enough for me."

He clasped her hand in his and looked into the mysterious hazel-green eyes he had grown to love so much. His mind flashed back several hours and the passionate kisses they had shared in the darkness. He turned her hand and brought her palm up to his lips, eyes closed as he pressed a kiss against the skin that contained the aroma of coffee and her scent.

"Am I meeting your expectations for brooding?" He teased her.

"No, we haven't even touched on the meaning of life and our individual places in the universe," she replied evenly. He raised a wary eyebrow and she burst out laughing.

"If you believed that, I've got a bridge to sell you," she said, chuckling. He did not understand why she wanted to sell him a bridge but allowed it to pass. A warmth spread through him when she laughed and he loved the fact he had made her do so.

"Andy," she said gravely. "Did something happen between you and Legolas before you were trapped here?"

Thranduil averted his eyes for a moment, inwardly flustered at how easily she read him. Thousands of years had molded him into a king, a warrior, and even a father, but she was somehow able to penetrate all of those roles to reach him, the ellon.

"Legolas and I had a very … heated disagreement," he said. "It was the night before he was to leave for Ithilien. He had been home for less than two months after the Second War of the Ring and I had not seen him in more than one year.

"I said horrible, horrible things to him. Things I did not mean. I accused him of putting the needs of an inferior race above that of his own people. Legolas, in turn, said my bigotry and racism were not his concern and he would be damned if he ruled over a kingdom where the inhabitants hated Men simply because of their king."

"Oh," she replied quietly. He opened her palm and traced various Tangwar symbols against the skin.

"Though I have been here but a few days I have spent more time in the company of mortals than in the previous ten thousand years of my life combined," he told her. "I have come to see that I was wrong about the race of Man."


	11. Chapter 11

Lauren decided to introduce the elf king to sausage sandwiches for dinner, something quick and easy. He had spoken very little since their conversation about Legolas in the café and she chose not to push him. As annoying as he could be she was not ready to see another display of Thranduil's legendary temper.

She used her trusty George Foreman grill to prepare the sausages. Once she was finished, she set them out with the rolls and fixed her own plate before she disappeared outside. The sun had just started a slow descent toward the tree line and the relative quiet of her yard gave her a much needed opportunity to think, alone. Or so she thought.

"These are really quite good," Thranduil remarked. Lauren jumped and sent her sandwich flying toward the wooden deck floor. The elf caught it and handed it back to her.

"I startled you again," he observed sheepishly.

"Dammit," she swore, not looking at him. "Thank you for saving my dinner. Yes, start stomping or something, okay? I didn't even hear you open the door!"

While she was not truly angry with him, his proximity made it difficult for her to think and she was still confused by his behavior in her living room the night before. She refused to speak and instead chose to silently watch the artificial waterfall cascade into the pool.

"What troubles you?" He finally ventured to ask.

"Not a thing," she replied, finishing her sandwich before she turned back toward the house. "Why would you think something is bothering me?"

"In the time I have been here, I have never known you to be so quiet for so long," he observed. "Have I upset you?"

"No, Thranduil, you haven't upset me," she replied, sighing. She turned to look at him and found her face level with his broad chest. Lauren moved backward several steps to put a safe distance between them.

"Then why do you retreat each time I draw near?" He asked softly. When she looked up, she could see the hurt flash in his sapphire eyes and she felt a momentary pang of guilt.

"Personal space," she told him flatly. He raised a dark eyebrow in response. "Yes, here, in this world, we practice the concept of personal space. That's the amount of space that should be kept between two or more individuals in a social setting. In this country, four feet is the acceptable distance."

"Is there some punishment if one's personal space is invaded?" He asked as he took another step toward her.

"No, it's just considered rude," she retorted, huffing while she took a corresponding step backward.

"And this personal space is always observed? Between parents and children, friends, lovers …?" He trailed off on the last word and again moved closer to her.

"Well, no, but that's slightly different," she grumbled. She looked up and saw that he had moved within a foot of her. Lauren guessed that he viewed her explanation as a challenge to his personal autonomy.

"How would I obtain permission to enter your personal space?" He asked in a low voice.

"You haven't asked yet," she quipped in response, staring at him defiantly with her hands firmly on her hips. His nearness made her dizzy and his scent overpowered her. She was conflicted between the growing desire to kiss him and the rational part of her mind that warned her that the elf was likely playing a game for his own entertainment.

"I am not accustomed to asking for permission," he admitted.

"Well, maybe you should start," she snapped, moving around him and returning to the kitchen to clean up.

XXXXX

Thranduil's thoughts and emotions were in chaos. While he no longer viewed the race of Men to solely evil and violent he still could see the danger from associations with them. Their lives were so short, even among the other mortal races of which he was aware. Yet humans had an amazing capacity for loyalty, compassion, and love, something that he would even dare call a superior attribute to that of the elves.

Thranduil closed his eyes and immediately his mind began to replay the images, sounds, and sensations from the night before. He had nearly gone insane with her scent on his body, her taste in his mouth, and the emptiness he felt without her in his arms. His body ached with his lust for her and he badly wanted to take her, then hold her while she slept in his arms.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him what he felt for her was far more than lust. Thranduil reminded himself that he was immortal, she was mortal, and they would eventually part ways. He could not allow himself to feel any more for her. In any event, his behavior had been so erratic and inexcusable that he doubted she felt anything more for him than mild irritation.

In ten thousand years he had never encountered another like her. She was funny, intelligent, brash but compassionate and caring. Lauren accepted her weaknesses and imperfections but did not allow them to hinder her.

Thranduil considered all of the ellyth he had known and bedded. Each one had been absolutely perfect in every way, the epitome of his race. More importantly, none had ever excited him nor made him feel so much, so deeply.

Sighing heavily, the elf opened _The Two Towers_ and immediately frowned. Although it seemed to be written in Frodo's style, the story differed from what he knew actually took place at that time. Thranduil did not have long to dwell on the inaccuracies when he heard the soft, nearly imperceptible creak of Lauren's bedroom door as it opened. Her feet made a soft, repetitive thud as she scurried down the hallway and down the stairs.

Thranduil heard the sliding glass door downstairs and promptly rose to his full height. He crossed to the window, expecting to see her on the wooden 'deck', as she called it. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the tiny, shapely woman striding across the grass toward the pool.

She wore a brightly-colored towel around her waist but above her waist he could the smooth skin of her back that disappeared into a garment that appeared to be fastened by a mere bow around the back and her neck. His breaches suddenly felt uncomfortable and he looked down, groaning when he noticed the prominent bulge press against the fastener between his legs.

Thousands of years of experience, good judgment, and even higher reasoning had deserted him. He was bewitched by the small strides she made and the seductive sway of her hips while she walked toward the pool. Thranduil's self-control was a mere thread and he knew very little would cause it to snap completely.

At that moment, Lauren's towel dropped from her waist. Only a small piece of fabric covered the bare flesh of her bottom but did nothing to hide its shapeliness.

Like a hunter stalking its prey, Thranduil slowly crept through the shadows of the house, into the yard, and toward the unknowing woman. Lauren had since entered the water and appeared to be floating on her back, face turned upward to the night sky.

With her mortal hearing obscured by water, and her attention focused elsewhere, he easily slipped into the water and sank beneath the surface, swimming swiftly toward her. Neither foot nor finger moved while he drew nearer to her. Thranduil smiled wickedly to himself.

Then he pounced.


	12. Chapter 12

Lauren's first thought was that a large rock had fallen on her, and she screamed. The part of her mind that remained calm reminded her that rocks were not warm, nor did they wrap around a waist like a vise. And, rocks certainly did not swim nor pull one up to the surface.

"For the love of the gods, Thranduil!" She exclaimed, sputtering through the water she inhaled. He had not released her. Instead, he held her firmly against his hard body. When her back came into contact with his torso she became aware he wore no shirt.

"Why did you not invite me to swim with you?" He murmured into her ear.

"I didn't want to disturb you," she lied smoothly.

"Mmm, I see," the king replied, placing his chin on her shoulder. "I was not aware you used this pool to swim and you would leave me indoors to suffer on such a hot night?" Lauren barely suppressed the shiver that coursed up her spine.

Then she froze. Something long and hard was pressed against her backside.

"Thranduil, uh, what are you wearing?" She asked hesitantly.

"Nothing," he whispered, nuzzling his face into her neck. Lauren's stomach proceeded to flip-flop while her mind went into a complete panic.

"Yeah, okay, you can let go of me now," she replied, silently grateful that her nearest neighbor was a mile away. "Please." He released her and she proceeded to swim to the steps as quickly as possible, muttering under her breath.

"What have I done?" She paused on the first step and took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Okay, first of all, I don't know how you all swim in Middle Earth but we wear suits," she began. "Second, I really don't appreciate this – " she waved her hand around while she searched for the right word. " – whatever _game_ you seem set to entertain yourself with."

"Lauren, please look at me," he commanded her.

"No way, you're swimming in the nude!" she exclaimed.

"And you are saying I am not pleasing to your eye?" He asked. "Or are you just afraid?" She turned to face him, hands on her hips, and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Where he was standing the water came up just above the V of his hips.

"What the hell do I have to be afraid of?" She heard herself snap, knowing she was rising to the bait.

"That you may actually enjoy my company as much as I do yours," he replied calmly with a twinge of arrogance in his voice. She merely raised an eyebrow, eliciting a sigh. Lauren shrugged, finding it increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact when his beautiful, well-muscled chest was on display.

"Maybe," she conceded, laughing. "In any event, I'll leave you to swim and I just ask that you dry off completely before you come back in, _clothed_."

"Still so eager to leave me in here, alone," he remarked, a pout on his face and mock sadness in his voice. Lauren felt her resolve start to melt.

"Dude, you're swimming naked in my pool," she replied. "You're lucky I'm going to allow you back in my house after this."

The mischievous look on his face alerted her he had something planned.

"Are you saying you have _never_ been swimming without some sort of garment in your entire life?" He asked her, sinking down in the water and floating backward.

"I never said that," she replied with a sinking feeling she was walking into some kind of trap. "I merely said that we usually swim with clothes and you _are_ swimming nude in my pool."

"Perhaps you should try it before you condemn my actions," he teased her.

"Whatever," she replied. "My skinny dipping days are long gone, as well as my figure."

"Then you are afraid," he exclaimed triumphantly.

"What are you talking about?" She asked him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of what would I be afraid, oh wise elven king?"

"That you may enjoy swimming unhindered by those positively sinful garments," he smirked. "Which, I understand, as a human may be too much for you …."

"I hate you," she snarled at him, slipping back into the water. "I can't believe you're actually daring me like I'm some sort of child."

"Hardly," he snorted. "This is how _we_ swim most of the time in Arda."

"Oh good, I'm being called a prude by an elf king notorious for having a stick up his ass," she mumbled to herself.

"I heard that," he called out.

"You were meant to," she replied. "Do males and females swim together like this, then?" A triumphant smile lit up her face as the elf glanced away shyly.

"No," he admitted softly.

"Then is this how elves get into each others' pants?" She mocked him.

"Actually, I believe the objective here is to get out of the pants," he teased.

"Oh, touche, Thranduil made a joke," she replied sarcastically.

"You are stalling," he replied, swimming closer. Her heart sped up dramatically as he neared her.

"Okay, stop right there," she commanded.

"I merely wished to see if you needed my assistance," he remarked, a positively wicked grin on his face.

"Uh, no," she said. She sank onto her knees so that the water covered her chest, then quickly untied the straps holding up her bikini top before throwing it to the side of the pool. It was only then that she wondered how she would redress without being seen. Carefully, she removed the briefs and managed to send them flying about four feet farther from where the top landed.

'Ah, my wonderful aim at work again,' she thought bitterly.

"Okay there, see, not afraid," she said, moving into deeper water. Thranduil merely stood, relaxed, waiting for her, she noted. He then moved closer, a cunning smile on his face that warned her to back up and find something solid to hold.

'He's an elf, he could probably break every stone or metal object in the pool with one hand,' she thought resignedly.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked, kicking water in his face to get away. A second later, he disappeared below the surface and she knew she was in trouble. Something strong clamped onto both of her ankles and pulled her underwater without warning.

XXXXX

He laughed harder than he had in a long time when her head finally broke through the surface. She sputtered a little before she leveled a glare at him. Thranduil was a king and a warrior, but somehow he felt slightly alarmed by the tiny woman.

"You ass!" She yelled at him, reaching for his shoulders. He continued to laugh while easily dodging her hands until he led her into the deepest part of the pool. She could not touch the bottom and he could easily dunk her again.

"Do not even think it," she growled. He smiled and proceeded to move closer to her as she attempted to get away. Thranduil's arms were much longer and with a gentle push against her shoulder, she once more dipped under the water line.

"Wow, nothing like cheating to win," she sneered at him.

"You are merely a poor loser," he taunted her.

"Yeah, and you're over a foot taller than me not to mention a million times stronger," she wailed.

"I truly am sympathetic to your plight in that you were not graced with a height greater than that of a young elfling," he teased her. She splashed water at him and began to sulk.

"Oh, now, now, enna," he said, mocking her. This time, she did surprise him by turning around and proceeding to tickle him on his rib cage, the spot where he was most ticklish. He gasped, for air and tried to wiggle out of her grasp but she held onto his arm with pure determination in her eyes.

"I yield, I yield!" He cried out.

"You yield?" She repeated. "Take back your insult about my height."

"Never!" He cried out. She continued her attack.

"All you have to do is say the magic words, Thranduil," she told him sweetly.

"I never surrender to the enemy," he gasped. He noted that she was so focused on his right side that her grip on his arm had slipped. He took advantage of the opportunity, twisting her arm around and held it down so that she could no longer move.

"Do you yield?" He asked her, trying not to look at the tops of uncovered breasts dangerously near the surface.

"Hell no!" She said. "You haven't apologized."

"But why should I apologize for telling the truth?" He asked her.

Slowly, the blinding grin faded while his eyes fell to her mouth, then darted back up to her eyes for permission, and then to her mouth as she leaned forward to meet him. Slow, passionate, and sweet were their kisses. She gently placed her hands on his bare shoulders, the heat of her fingers a sharp contrast to the cool water around them and Thranduil felt himself shiver.

He lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist while her sex pressed against his lower abdomen. His lips traced a line down her jaw, to her neck where he placed sweet butterfly kisses up and down the column. His heartbeat sped up when she emitted a soft, low moan in response to his ministrations. Her skin was so soft, even softer than an elleth's, and he could taste its saltiness.

Thranduil needed more.

At the base of her neck, where the neck and shoulder meet, he gently scraped his teeth along the skin, knowing it would leave a mark. She jerked in his arms but clutched him tighter, as his tongue laved the abused area.

**"You are mine,"** he breathed before his lips returned to hers.


	13. Chapter 13

She did not understand his words nor was she given a chance to ask about their meaning. Lauren felt all thought disappear, replaced with a tsunami of physical sensations and emotions that overwhelmed her. Thranduil lightly bit down on her lip and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to invade her mouth.

**"I love you,"** he murmured, briefly pulling back while he attempted to catch his breath. She was speechless in the wake of his sapphire eyes staring so deeply into hers. Lauren was certain he could see her soul. Thranduil's face was completely blank, open, and she realized he lowered his guard to allow her to finally see him.

"I wish to make love to you, Lauren," he continued, his voice soft. In spite of the fact she was partially submerged in water, she felt the wetness of her own arousal and her core pulsed with her need for him.

"It's been a while for me, Thranduil," she whispered. "I don't think I can meet your expectations and I'm not an elf."

"My only expectation is that you would do this because you also desire this, desire … me," he finished nervously. "It has been a very long for me also. I fear I shall not meet _your_ expectations." Lauren's heart lurched when she heard the self-doubt in his gentle brogue.

She leaned toward him, brushing her lips over his before she smiled.

"You could never disappoint me, Thranduil," she told him. He blinked once, twice, then his face lit up in a blinding smile. Lauren felt self-conscious in the wake of his beauty, though she did not have time to dwell as his mouth descended upon hers again.

'He's just filling a need and you're the only thing around,' she tried to tell herself. 'Just enjoy it and move on.'

Without warning, she found herself being carried up the steps in the shallow part of the pool. She was extremely nervous that he would be repulsed when he saw her entire body and she buried her face in his shoulder. The summer air was warm and humid, but not uncomfortable as they were both wet from the pool water.

Lauren felt her back meet something soft and cold and she gasped at the sensation. Her arms and legs were still wrapped around him though he caged her with his arms on either side of her, smiling tenderly. He leaned back toward his heels, gently removing her legs from his waist before leaning forward again.

She closed her eyes, wincing while she waited for his reaction.

"Lauren?" He asked her, voice filled with concern. "Have I hurt you?" She shook her head, feeling ridiculous but refused to open her eyes. "Then please, please look at me."

She opened her eyes to find the elf eyeing her body, mouth slightly ajar. His chest was heaving. Lauren allowed herself to glance down, between his legs, and found his enormous elfhood so erect it lay flat against his abdomen.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered in awe. She felt herself grow even wetter under his appraising gaze.

"So are you," she replied shyly. She felt his large, warm hands cover her breasts and she moaned while he gently massaged them. With his thumbs, he slowly drew circles around her nipples while the warm blood rushed into them, causing them to harden and pebble.

His mouth latched onto her right breast, tongue swirling and sucking, teeth skimming the sensitive skin while his other hand pinched and twisted the other nipple. Reflexively, Lauren's back arched to offer him more. She threaded her hands through his long, wet hair and lost herself in the sensations. She lost track of time but felt her arousal heighten more when his attentions switched her other breasts. His teeth carefully bit down on the other nipple and she groaned in response.

"Thranduil," she breathed. His mouth moved to the valley between the soft mounds and he proceeded to press wet, hot kisses down her chest in a torturously slow manner. Her core started to ache with the need to feel him inside of her, fears about his size rapidly diminishing in her mind.

Thranduil paused just above the apex to her thighs. She whimpered, willing him to bring his mouth to her lower folds. His mouth vanished and she whimpered again, louder than before. She opened her eyes to find him kneeling, a devilish smile on his face, just as his finger breached her wet cavern and she moaned. The first finger was followed by a second.

He began a slow, deep thrusting motion with his fingers while she writhed beneath him. No man had ever touched her like that before and likely, no man ever could. She felt his thumb begin its ascent through her wet folds until it reached the sensitive nub. As his fingers thrust within her his thumb retreated only to return and gently massage the bundle of nerves.

"Oh gods, Thranduil, please," she begged him. Her orgasm was so close that she was nearly senseless, trapped in the pleasure he gave her. Her climax started to build near the inner walls of her vagina and her clit.

"Please what, Lauren?" He teased her.

"I'm so close …," she murmured. He removed his hand and she forced herself to bite back a groan as he lowered his mouth to meet hers. Distantly, she felt him lift her legs, first her right and then her left, and wrap them around his waist. He paused a moment, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Are you ready for me?" He asked her in a low, husky voice.

"Yes," she whispered, staring into his eyes. The tip of his cock gently brushed against the entrance while even more wetness flowed between her legs. His adam's apple bobbed once before he slid himself inside in one smooth, hard thrust.

XXXX

Thranduil shut his eyes against the pleasure that traveled all the way up his spine as he sheathed himself to the hilt. He paused, attempting to steady himself against the warm tightness that surrounded his cock. Small fingers cupped the side of his face and he smiled, opening his eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked her. She nodded her head a few times and he leaned his face into her touch. He pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand.

"It's alright, Thranduil," she told him softly. "You can move."

"I do not wish to hurt you, melamin," he confessed. "I – " She pulled his head toward hers, her lips softly meeting his while she ran her warm hands over his shoulders and down his back. Her hands clutched his bottom while she pressed her hips against his, showing him what she wanted.

With small, deliberate motions, Thranduil rocked his hips against hers while he deepened the kiss. He changed the angle of his hips, applying pressure back and forth against the small nub between her legs. He forced himself to open his eyes and watch her as he continued to drive her toward her release, meanwhile fighting back his.

"Look at me, Lauren," he demanded. He smiled as her eyelids rose. "I need to see you." She swallowed and nodded, prompting a smile from him. Seconds later, she screamed as her inner walls clutched and spasmed around his elfhood.

Thranduil felt his own climax yanked from him. He threw his head back and yelled her name into the night sky, gradually slowing his thrusts while he emptied himself into her. Time stood still while he caught his breath, listening to the woman beneath him try to bring her own breathing back to normal.

He pressed a long, tender kiss against her lips and watched her.

"I love you, Lauren."


	14. Chapter 14

Lauren found herself completely unable to speak. Thranduil continued to stare at her intensely while his breathing returned to a normal pace. He was waiting for her to respond to his declaration.

"You can't," she whispered.

"Pardon me?" he asked her, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.

"You _cannot_ love me," she repeated. "You're an elf and I'm just a woman. It can't happen."

"'It' _has_ happened," he rejoined. "Do you truly believe I know not what is in my own mind and heart?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and, with as much dignity as she could manage, proceeded to wrap herself in her beach towel. When she turned to pick up her swim suit she saw the two pieces dangling from Thranduil's hand. He was still naked and gloriously so. Lauren averted her eyes.

"May I have my swim suit, please?" She asked him.

"No," he replied flatly. She was in no mood to play a game with him. Shrugging, she began walking back to the house. As she reached the top step to the deck she felt two hands grasp her shoulders, bringing her to an immediate stop.

"Let go of me," she hissed.

"No," he answered her. "Not until you tell me the reason for your anger."

"The reason for my anger?" She paraphrased incredulously. "Oh, I don't know. Let's see, perhaps I should start with the fact that you've never made a secret of your hatred of Men - ."

"And I admitted that it was wrong, I was wrong," he cut her off.

"Then there's the fact that we had a discussion not that long ago about love and you said you didn't believe in it," she continued.

"Things sometimes change, Lauren," he said, his voice much softer.

"You admitted that it's been a while for you," she retorted accusingly. "Are you feeling guilty for having casual sex or something? You're making this into something it isn't."

The words practically killed her to say out loud but there was no way she could take them back. Her throat closed painfully and she attempted to swallow her tears. She reminded herself that it was for the best that things ended sooner rather than later.

"Look Thranduil, it was a mistake, that's all," she said. "We just move beyond it."

"A mistake?" He repeated, somewhat incredulously. "You did not appear to believe it to be a mistake when we kissed. Nor did you appear to believe it to be a mistake when you joined with me."

She shifted uncomfortably inside his embrace. There was no easy way to tell him the vast multitude of reasons why they could not continue.

"Thranduil, it's not a good idea for us to be so close," she began uneasily.

"Why?" He demanded, anger laced his words.

"Because at some point in the not-too-distant future, you're going to go home," she answered flatly. His hands suddenly released her shoulders and his arms dropped to his sides. When she turned to say more, he was gone.

XXXXX

Thranduil shut himself inside his room. He listened to her feet move softly across the house, up the stairs, and over the second floor. Hands clenching into fists, nails digging into his palms, he forced himself to stare out the window at the thick trees that stretched as far as his eyes could see.

A loud squeak indicated she had turned on the water for a shower. His mind assaulted him with images of her beautiful, naked body pressed against him, beneath him in the grass beside the pool. His entire body ached for her and his heart felt as if it had shattered.

A faint throbbing in his palms made him look down to see crimson crescents marring the skin. Disgustedly, he wiped the blood against his thighs. After an unknown amount of time he gravitated toward the shower in the corridor and went through the motions of bathing himself.

The world seemed to be bathed in red and the horrible ache in his chest would not subside. He recognized the feeling as the one described by the few elves that had faded from heartbreak. Contrary to Tolkien's books, elves did not fade from deep grief though they sometimes suffered from the effects of the melancholy left in its wake. He resolved that he would not fade though he was uncertain if he ever would ever be rid the emptiness he felt from her rejection.

Shortly after he finished his shower, the king of Greenwood was safely ensconced in the forest behind her dwelling. Almost immediately, the fog that had obscured his mind lifted and he found himself deftly climbing a large and very old maple tree. The trees in this place spoke in a language with which he was unfamiliar. He placed a hand against the trunk and felt the warm sensation of a welcome.

He smiled wistfully and recalled the day he had taught Legolas how to commune with the forest.

_It had been early morning, long before the sun rose when Thranduil crept into the elfling's room. He had allowed himself a few moments to watch his son sleep peacefully beneath the mural he had commissioned around the time of his birth. The artist had created a gentle forest landscape with beautiful horses, frolicking elflings, waterfalls, and small woodland creatures. _

_**"Legolas,"**__ Thranduil whispered. In response, the elfling lifted his hand and rubbed his face before settling back in place. __**"Legolas. You must wake up. We are to make a journey today."**_

_ His eyes slowly opened and a sweet, radiant smile lit up his face. _

_ "Adar," the elfling said. _

_**"Wake up little one,"**__ Thranduil repeated. __**"Today we travel into the Greenwood." **_

_**"Why are we going into the forest, father?"**__ He asked sleepily while pushing himself up, his chin-length blonde hair fell neatly behind his head. Thranduil stared into the bright sapphire eyes, so like his own, and smiled before tousling the elfling's head._

_**"Today you will learn how to speak and listen to the trees,"**__ Thranduil responded. _

_**"Trees cannot talk, father,"**__ Legolas had replied, a frown on his face. _

_**"Of course trees can talk!"**__ Thranduil exclaimed with mock indignity. __**"Who told you they cannot?"**_

_**"No one,"**__ he replied. __**"But I see trees every day and I have never heard them say a single word!"**__ The king rolled his eyes._

_**"That is because you have not yet learned their language,"**__ he explained. __**"Now, hurry and dress. We shall be gone most of the day."**_

_ Taking Legolas by the hand, they walked through the palace, past the sentinels, and out the gate. Thranduil smiled as Legolas waved to the guards as they passed. Carefully, they hiked through the thick growth, over the well-trodden paths, and away from the flets of the near watch. Finally, when he thought they had reached a distance sufficiently far from the other elves, he stopped._

_**"This tree is a descendant of the first tree in this land,"**__ Thranduil explained. __**"It is not the oldest and it is not the youngest." **_

_** "How do you know that, father?" **__Legolas demanded. _

_**"It told me,"**__ Thranduil said, shrugging. _

_**"I did not hear anything!"**__ Legolas pouted. _

_**"Place your hand on the bark, like this,"**__ he said, laying his own hand on the trunk. __**"Now, be silent and listen for the words."**__ Thranduil watched Legolas' chManwebic face scrunch into an expression of concentration. He bit back a smile lest he hurt his son's feelings._

_ Thranduil had lost track of the time and immersed himself in listening to the conversations among the trees around them. A loud, triumphant cry brought his attention back to his son and tree. An enormous smile lit up the elfling's face. _

_**"It said, 'welcome Legolas Thranduilion. We are honored to make your acquaintance',"**__ Legolas said, awe in every word. __**"Wait! There is more!"**__ Thranduil listened as the tree told a story about the first squirrel family that had made a home in its hollows. At the end of the story, the tree urged him to visit with his brothers and sisters._

_**"Now you must thank this tree,"**__ Thranduil told him. Confusion furrowed Legolas' brow as he looked up at him. _

_**"How do I thank it?"**__ He asked. _

_**"Thank you for the visit and the story,"**__ Thranduil replied. The tree whispered an invitation for father and son to return whenever they wished._

_ By the time the sun had set, the elves had traveled five or six miles farther into the woods due to Legolas' unquenchable curiosity. Eyeing his son's heavy eyes, he lifted Legolas into his arms and allowed him the sleep during their return to the palace. _

_ Yrwil was waiting for them when they returned. _

_**"Good evening sire,"**__ the nanny curtsied. __**"How did the young prince fare?"**_

_**"He had a marvelous time and he was invited to return,"**__ Thranduil said. __**"He has much to learn but in time, he will." **_

His chest constricted tightly as he considered that he may never see his only child again. A small voice in his mind reminded him that if he was to be reunited with Legolas then he would lose Lauren forever. With that thought in mind, Thranduil chose to stay within the comfort of the trees that night.


	15. Chapter 15

Lauren had cleaned the downstairs, gone for a two-mile run, and attempted to read more of the biography she had purchased. Her mind continued to drift back to Thranduil and their conversation the night before. She had been unable to sleep and spent the entire night alone, debating whether to go to him and apologize or to simply allow him time to accept what may have been the first rejection in his life.

She sighed, closing her book and laying it back on the table. What she had told him was no less true, even though it hurt her to say it. Standing up, she stretched her cramped muscles and proceeded to the laundry room for her hiking boots.

'I wonder what I'll find in there today,' she mused. 'Perhaps a dragon or an alien colony.' She smiled in amusement at her own joke, tying the sturdy laces to decrease her chance of blisters.

Aimlessly, she walked along the trail without truly looking at anything. On and on, deeper and deeper into the woods where her thoughts turned to Madame Laurel's puzzling prophecy of Thranduil's soul and his son. Turning the words over and over in her mind, she stopped at the top of a gully and stared, unseeingly.

The sooner Thranduil discovered the meaning of the cryptic message, the sooner he would return to Middle Earth and she would be, once more, alone. No more early morning smiles to greet her. No more playful, teasing banter.

Rapidly shaking her head, she sighed and attempted to push the unwelcome thoughts away.

"What a disaster," she said out loud, sadly.

"You do realize that you have exhibited the first signs of madness," came a familiar Irish brogue directly behind her. She jumped, slipped, and started to fall over the edge when she found herself encased in a pair of strong arms. Her heart was slamming against her chest while she attempted to catch her breath.

"Woman, I do not know how on Arda you have managed to live as long as you have when you startle so easily," he murmured against her hair.

"First, we're not in Arda and second, I don't haves elves sneaking up behind me all the time," she quipped, though she held him tighter. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you enter the forest and I followed you," he answered. "I hoped to speak with you but I did not intend to endanger your life again."

"Where were you, exactly? I didn't see you or hear you," she demanded.

"In the trees," he said casually. "I may be a king but I remain an elf." Slowly, he pulled back and stared at her.

"So you were out here all night, alone?" She asked incredulously.

"Your concern for my welfare is touching but unnecessary," he said. Lauren could hear that his pride was slightly wounded by her question. "As I said, I am an elf."

"Yes you are," she conceded, smiling at him. "Thranduil - ."

"Let me speak first, for once," he cut in, smiling. "I cannot return to Arda."

"Uh, what?" She said, fully aware of how stupid she sounded. "I'm sorry, did you just say you can't go back to Middle Earth? What about your son? What about your people?"

"I miss my home and I miss my son," he admitted. "But if I must leave you, then I cannot go back."

"I don't understand," Lauren said, allowing her irritation with the conversation to show.

"I am in love with you, melamin," Thranduil replied.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," she said sardonically. "How can you keep saying that? You don't even know me!"

"Do I not?" He countered. "You are beautiful, brilliant, caring to a fault but volatile. You have no living family but your friends have filled those positions for you. Yet you feel alone most of the time, and unworthy."

"Stop it, Thranduil," she said in a low, warning tone.

"I _will_ speak the truth," he said tightly. "You often speak before you fully contemplate what it is you wish to convey. You often drink to excess to lubricate social gatherings you find to be uncomfortable.

"And you have built thick, high walls around your heart, the same as I, to protect yourself from love and pain."

"Why are you doing this?" She said, tears streaming down her face.

"You do not believe me that I know you and that I love you, all of you, the good and the bad," he replied. "I do not expect you to reciprocate my feelings. I simply wish for you to acknowledge that I do love you, knowingly, and with my entire heart and fea."

Without warning, his mouth crashed over hers with unrestrained passion while his arms wrapped around her. He pulled away only far enough to press his forehead to hers.

"Lauren, listen to me please," he said, voice authoritative. She gave a slight nod to indicate her assent. "I did not know what it meant, truly, to love another and I did not know I was incomplete, until I met you."

"Thranduil," she whispered. Thranduil gently brushed his knuckles over her face. Her body trembled from the intensity of the emotions she felt from him.

His soft lips kissed her cheeks where the tears left rivulets on her skin. A gentle pressure at the corner of her mouth brought her back to the reality. The breathtakingly handsome king of Greenwood had declared his love for her.

A second kiss was placed squarely on her mouth. Lauren drew in a deep breath through her nose before she allowed herself to return his passion. Thranduil used his own mouth to force hers open before he plunged his tongue inside.

"Dammit," she cursed as she wrenched her face away from him. "I _am_ in love with you Thranduil."

A huge, triumphant smile spread over his face while he swiftly lifted her from her feet, spinning her in circles.

"Thank the Valar," he whispered before he proceeded to kiss her completely senseless. Lauren heard herself moan loudly before the sound changed into a breathy gasp while his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin just below her jaw.

She threaded her fingers through his long, silky blonde hair as his mouth moved to a new spot on her neck, sucking and licking the flesh. In one fluid movement, he removed her shirt and let it fall on the ground before he returned to his exploration of her body.

"This is insane," she replied. He stopped and stared at her but she just grinned slyly and tugged his own shirt up and over his head. He returned her smile, splaying his hands on her lower back and rolling his head back while her fingers traced the contours of his muscles in his chest and abdomen.

She marveled in how smooth and soft he felt as she inhaled his heady scent. Thranduil's heavy sigh of contentment was all the encouragement she needed to continue with her ministrations.

She placed a soft kiss between his pectorals, then moved to his right nipple which she drew into her mouth. His chest rumbled with a low moan and she felt an unexpected rush of pride that she was able to elicit a reaction from an elf who had likely slept with thousands of she-elves. Kissing her way across his chest she worked on his left nipple and then brushed her lips along his rib cage until she reached his hard abdomen.

Trying to make it natural and graceful, Lauren's fingers found the fly of his pants and slowly pulled down the zipper before she set to work on the belt and the button. He caught her hands before she was able to push the waist down, tugging her back to her full height.

"My turn," he murmured, smiling. His fingers found the clasp of her bra and, looking directly over shoulder, proceeded to unfasten the hooks. He drew the underwear down her arms and cast it on the ground.

"While I understand the purpose of such garments," he began, pressing a kiss to the base of her throat. "They are such a nuisance."

Lauren attempted to cover her chest from his view, wondering if her breasts were too small or too large for him. A C cup was a fairly good endowment for someone who was barely a hundred pounds.

Thranduil drew her arms away from her chest and gently brought the soft mounds into his hands, palms lightly brushing over the nipples until they hardened and became extremely sensitive.

"Do not hide from me," he told her, bringing his mouth to her left breast and sucking it into his mouth. His tongue drew circles around her sensitive peaks and she heard herself moan, a shock of pleasure traveled straight to her core. Once he seemed to have his fill of the first, he moved to the second, this time scraping his teeth lightly against the sensitive flesh and causing her entire body to buck involuntarily.

With graceful movements he finished removing her clothes, kissing her exposed skin. Thranduil slowly sank to his knees before her. When his face was even with her sex, she watched his eyes flutter closed and deeply inhale. A shock of embarrassment passed through her as she realized he could smell her arousal, and she attempted to back away.

Brazenly, the elf pressed soft kisses along the interior of her thighs moving so close to the sensitive nub she felt the wetness on her thighs increase with anticipation. The next thing she knew his large tongue had entered her cavern and he released a moan that made her knees weak. She grabbed his shoulders for support, which only encouraged him to continue thrusting his tongue inside of her.

Lauren gasped and her eyes fluttered shut against the barrage of physically incredible sensations she felt. He then drew his tongue along her folds with agonizing slowness until he reached the nub. Her arms started to shake from attempting to hold herself upright and she cried out as the tip of his tongue flicked the most sensitive place along her clit

"Oh gods, Thranduil," she whispered. He continued to lap and suck on her clit while driving her closer to her climax. She could no longer hold herself upright and her knees gave out. His firm grip around her legs prevented her fall. He stopped and stared up at her, lips glistening, and then gently guided her down to the ground.

He drew her legs over each shoulder before he dipped his face back between her legs and continued to lick, suck, and tease. Lauren's fingers closed around the grass as her body tried to arch from the ground. His hand firmly pushed her hips down.

Her climax swept over her like a tidal wave and she screamed at the top of her lungs. Never in her life had she climaxed so hard and she panted to catch her breath. Moments later, she heard his pleasurable moans and felt his tongue inside of her once more.

"Your taste is incredible, meleth-nin," he husked. His mouth crashed over hers and she could taste herself in his mouth. Although she was not usually a kisser after oral sex she ignored it because she craved the feeling of his body over hers.

"Are you ready for me, Lauren?" He asked in a low voice.

"Yes," she whispered, caressing the side of his angelic face. "I want you completely inside of me." Staring down at her, he nodded vigorously and gently penetrated her with excruciating slowness. Keeping a steady, even rhythm, Thranduil began to rock in and out of her. He completely withdrew before smoothly pushing himself all the way in again.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a sweet, loving kiss.

"I love you too," she replied, combing her fingers through his tresses.

XXXXX

In his youth, Thranduil recalled nights when he and his friends would sit around an outdoor fire with a bottle Miruvor and compare conquests. Unlike his friends, he never stayed the night with an elleth and did not return to her after bedding her once. While his number of bed partners had been greater his friends eventually settled into contests of longevity. Thranduil could only scoff at the stories of their stamina as exaggerations and could not fathom taking an elleth more than once.

Until that morning.

A light sheen of sweat had broken out on Lauren's face while he continued to thrust into her. He had lost all sense of time, focusing only on the woman beneath him, the sensations of skin against skin, and the pleasure of burying himself inside her. His blood felt like it was on fire and he simply could not get enough of her.

Thranduil grinned when he felt her inner walls constrict around him. Lauren cried out, though it was weaker than the previous five times he had brought about her release. She looked up at him with her hazel-green eyes, cupping his face with her hand with a smile that made her even more beautiful. Her exhaustion was apparent.

"I can't go again, Thranduil," she told him softly. He nodded his head and continued to gaze into her eyes while his climax started bearing down on him. With a cry somewhere beware a grunt and a moan, he drove into her once more while his body emptied his seed deep inside of her body.

Carefully, he shifted his weight to the side so that he did not hurt her and laid his head on her chest, trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and listened to the gentle thud of her heartbeat against her chest.

"Hey, superman, are you alright?" She teased him. Thranduil propped himself up on an elbow and gently kissed her. "I love you."

"I do not believe I shall grow weary of hearing you say that, meleth-nin," he replied, kissing her again. "I love you so much I know not how to completely express it."

"Oh, I thought that's what you were trying to do for the last couple hours," she replied. He chuckled, gently stroking her face with the tips of his fingers.

"Did I hurt you, love?" He asked her quietly.

"Well, I can't for sure that I won't walk for a little while," she began. "Though I doubt your ego needs any more stroking."

"I do not believe it is my ego that requires your stroking," he suggested slyly, laying his head on her chest with a smile while she laughed at his slightly crude innuendo.

It was then that he noticed that they remained joined. He was not ready to separate himself from her and reveled in the sense of peace that pervaded him. Neither of them spoke for a very long time.

"Thranduil?" she began, he felt her chest vibrate against his ear as she spoke.

"Yes my love?" He replied.

"Would you tell me something about your home?" She asked, hesitating slightly. He pressed a reassuring kiss against the top of her bare chest, closing his eyes at its softness.

"Of course," he replied. "What would you like to know?"

"According to Tolkien's stories," she began. Thranduil responded with an angry growl and she simply giggled in response. "You moved the entire city deep into the caves once the darkness of the necromancer began to creep into your realm."

"Aye," he said, feeling suddenly sad as he remembered the day he announced the exodus from the surface.

_Brilliant yellow sunlight streamed through the window to his study, bathing him in its warmth. Thranduil stood tall, arms clasped behind his back and stared out the window. The trees whispered warnings to him about the darkness that encroached upon the realm. Far away now but each day it inched closer to Greenwood._

_At first, he had held out hope that the evil would fade. Months had become years and still the necromancer's influence grew with no way to keep the darkness in check. Thranduil had traveled to Lothlorien and Imladris to consult with his kin. Both Galadriel and Elrond had offered to accept both he and his subjects as refugees in their respective realms. Gandalf the Gray had been even more straightforward and advised him to flee to the Undying Lands. _

_Stacks of parchment with hastily written reports filled his desk. Some were reports of the dark creatures that had invaded his territory. Spiders, orcs, trolls, and goblins roamed the outer perimeter. Other reports detailed the brawls of the guard once they returned from the watch rotation. _

_ His realm was a veritable hodge-podge of elven ingenuity and imagination. Talans twisted around the upper tiers of the ancient forest, towering over a variety of homely houses and manors built along the ground. Life sprang forth everywhere around him, from the hanging gardens above to the winding pathways through the cultivated flower beds and shrubbery of the city. _

_ Garolin's written plan for a relocation of the city lay on the floor, beside his feet. Not for the first time, Thranduil wondered how he could condemn his kin to such an unnatural state of existence. Greenwood was surrounded by low mountains that led to even deeper subterranean caves. Based on his advisor's maps, the structures provided more than ample protection from the evil enemies that had invaded Eryn Lesgalyn._

___Thranduil heard the faint strains of an ancient elven lullaby. Nearby, he saw a tall elleth cradling a chubby-cheeked infant elfling. The child's face was enraptured as he stared at the face of his caregiver while she sang to him. _

_**"Oh, my little prince,"**__ Yrwil cooed. __**"You need to rest if you are to grow up strong and become a great ruler of the land. Just like your father"**_

___Thranduil turned toward his desk, staring at the inkwell and quill that lay in the corner near a clean sheet of parchment. Hand shaking, he wrote the formal order to the people to prepare for a move to the underground areas. He owed it to his people and, more importantly, he owed it to his son to provide them with their best chance of survival. _

Gradually, he became aware of the sensation of fingertips that swept over his scalp. He closed his eyes and allowed her scent to calm his lingering fears.

"Beautiful," she whispered. He heard her voice catch on the last syllable of the word. Thranduil pulled himself up onto his elbows and watched the tears trail down her cheeks. Instinctively, he pulled her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin.

"Not without you," he whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

When they returned to the house, Lauren shut herself into her office after promising Thranduil she would emerge by six so they could have dinner and talk. She found that, even though he was just on the other side of the door, he felt far away and she missed him. Lauren silently chastised herself for behaving like the needy, weepy women she mocked.

Twenty minutes later, she had settled in front of her laptop and managed to pound out the first ten numbered paragraphs of a new complaint when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display and smirked.

"Daniel O'Rourke," she greeted him. "Where have you been all my life?"

Musical laughter answered her and she could not help but giggle. She and Daniel had been friends since her undergraduate days. Daniel had ventured into the world of private investigators while she drifted toward law school.

"How's my favorite con artist?" He teased her.

"Now, now, you're changing the subject," she chastised him.

"Ree, you're ruthless," he replied.

"Says the private investigator," she retorted.

"Well, how do you feel about meeting up for coffee at our favorite place," he said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"You really know how to get a girl excited, Dan," she said sarcastically.

"So that's a yes?"

"Um, can I bring a friend along?" She asked, absently twirling a long lock of her hair around her index finger.

"Tomorrow at eight," he replied.

Maria ended the call and placed the phone in the corner of her desk. She felt a second wind and happily dove back into her work load. She did not look up again until she heard the soft, low ring of her reminder alarm through the small speakers of her laptop.

A loud knock at her office door startled her but simultaneously sent a chill up her spine. Before she could respond, Thranduil opened the door with a feral gleam in his eyes.

"My love, I most humbly request the honor of your company," he said in a low, seductive voice. She could not stop the enormous grin that lit up her face nor the pleasure she felt when he graced her with one of his radiant smiles.

"Yes sire," she responded with a deep curtsy. When she rose to her full height she found herself staring directly into the elf's chest. He clasped her chin, raising it so that they were gazing into each other's eyes.

"I love you Thranduil," she told him softly. He pulled her close, kissing her with such tenderness she felt as if the world had stopped moving. He cupped the left side of her face with his hand, drawing her even closer against his as he deepened their kiss.

"And I love you, Lauren," he murmured against her lips. "Now come, I have something I need to show you."

He moved his fingers slowly from her face, down her arm and clasped her hand within his own. She allowed him to pull her from the office and into the kitchen. Maria stopped and brought her hand to her mouth.

Every single candle she owned lined the counters and the island, casting a warm yellow glow. On the island she saw two place settings, complete with silverware with a large dish of what appeared to be macaroni and cheese steaming from a stoneware baking dish.

"If you would, please reserve any commentary until _after_ you have sampled my efforts," he put in quickly.

"So I should wait to tell you that this is the most thoughtful, romantic thing anyone has ever done for me?" She teased him.

"No, I am more willing to listen to those compliments," he replied, nuzzling her neck. After a few seconds, he started to press long, gentle kisses along her neck and she let out a small sigh in response.

"We should eat before it gets cold," she reminded him. His disappointed moan vibrated against her neck. She smiled in response but he released her and pulled out a stool for her.

Lauren hopped up on the chair, slightly surprised when the elf king scooped up some of the pasta and put it on her plate. She could see his lips twitch as he fought back a smile.

"Go on, I can see that it's killing you," she told him. He turned his sapphire eyes toward with a look of feigned innocence.

"I know not what you mean, darling," he replied.

"Hmm, too bad," she replied, digging into her pasta. "I thought you, of all people, erm, elves, no, beings, would have an original height joke since you've been around a while." Thranduil's brow furrowed and she could see he was attempting to decipher some of her words.

XXXXX

"Are you saying that I am old?" He asked her.

"Never," she replied in mock horror. "It could invoke the wrath of the mighty King of Greenwood." Thranduil paused, his fork hovered above his plate while he watched her spear the food and place it in her mouth. Occasionally, her tongue would slip out of her mouth and lick her top lip.

He was certain he had not seen anything so erotic in a very long time. His jeans had grown tighter in the crotch and he shifted to relieve the discomfort.

"Excuse me, Mr. Greenleaf, are you planning to try your own creation?" She asked him. Thranduil swallowed hard, giving her a weak smile before he tucked into his own meal.

"This is amazing," she said a few moments later. "You can add that to the growing list of things you are amazing good at."

"You need not humor me, melamin," he said, his eyes on his plate. He felt her tiny hand cover his.

"Let's be clear about something," Lauren began. He lifted his gaze until their eyes met and he felt his heart skip a beat.

'I am behaving like an elleth,' he silently berated himself.

"I never have and I never will lie to you, about anything," she continued, her beautiful face completely neutral.

They made love for hours that night. Thranduil was far from sated but relented when Lauren begged him to allow her to rest. He pulled her over his body, wrapping his arms around her while her heartbeat returned to its normal state.

"You're going to need to create a harem when you go home," she murmured sleepily.

"Why would I need such a thing?" he asked, savoring the silken sensation of her hair between his fingers.

"Your libido and your stamina will be too much for any one she-elf," Lauren replied. Thranduil felt white hot anger flare through him. His mind refused to even consider the possibility of bedding another.

Listening to her even breathing, he allowed himself to fade into the sweet oblivion of sleep and dreams:

_ Thranduil leaned against the balcony railing, arms hanging over the edge and his hands clasped. He watched the early morning routines of his people. Subterranean torches were lit, gates were opened, and elves moved along the walkways between buildings. He smiled at the predictability of his subjects as they tended their duties. _

_**"Good morning my little princess,"**__ came a familiar voice from the interior of his chambers. He heard a soft gurgling noise in response to the statement. Thranduil turned back to his rooms where he saw a small figure, slightly hunched over, bobbing in front of the vanity mirror. Her gown was green like the leaves of the forest outside the caverns and a golden circlet rested on her head, holding back the long chestnut tresses that fell to her waist. _

_**"I did not know you were awake,"**__ Thranduil said. _

_**"You have a lot on your mind,"**__ she replied, turning to face him with a radiant smile on her face. The baby's brown eyes sparkled as she stared at him and he felt his heart melt in response. _

_**"Though not so much that I cannot spare a few minutes to say good morning to my wife and my daughter,"**__ he replied, lifting the child into his arms. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a long, tender kiss. _

_**"I love you, my king,"**__ she told him in a low, soft voice. _

_**"And I love **_**you**_**, Queen Lauren,"**__ he replied, planting a gentle kiss on her mouth and then on their daughter's forehead._

Thranduil's eyes opened, chest heaving while he attempted to recall his surroundings. Lauren's even breathing continued undisturbed, her naked body pressed against his while she clung to his torso. He exhaled with relief and happiness while he tightened his embrace.


	17. Chapter 17

Consciousness slowly stole over Lauren even as she stubbornly kept her eyes closed. She recalled she had not set the alarm on her phone as the last glance at the clock face revealed it was three in the morning. Several moments later, she noticed that she lay alone in the sheets of her bed.

Thranduil stood near the window, legs spread in a V while his arms were clasped behind his back. His long, pale golden hair sparkled in the sun's rays that penetrated her room. Lauren watched him, watched the muscles in his back while he breathed.

"I know you are awake, meleth-nin," he said.

"I'm just admiring the view, my lord," she replied sleepily. She smiled as she listened to the musical sound of his laughter. She rolled out of the bed and padded across the floor, stark naked. Wrapping her arms around his chest Lauren pressed her body against his.

"Good morning, my love," he muttered, lifting her left hand and pressing a kiss against her opened palm.

"What's wrong?" She asked him softly.

"Nothing so long as you are at my side," he replied in an equally soft voice.

"Thranduil, you _will_ go home," she began. Before she could blink, she found herself staring into his beautiful eyes.

"Lauren, when I say I will not return without you I truly meant that I shall not return to Greenwood without you," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Thranduil, I - ."

"Would you leave your world for me?" He asked her. She sucked in a deep breath and averted her eyes. "Because I will gladly leave my world behind to remain with you."

Lauren paused for a moment, still enraptured by his sapphire gaze while he clasped her hands within his. He was correct in that she had no living family and friends that filled those roles.

"Yes, Thranduil," she whispered. "I would follow you anywhere." He cupped the right side of her face, pulling her flush against his body while he proceeded to kiss her. Lauren released a sigh which served to spur the elf as he lifted her from the floor, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. The instant her back made contact with the mattress she knew he would ravish her.

Thranduil pulled her toward the edge of the mattress, lifting her legs to rest against his shoulders while he continued to kiss her passionately. Without warning, he thrust his elfhood deeply inside her and she gasped with the pleasure pain of his penetration.

"I love you," she whispered as he began to thrust.

"And I love you, my queen," he replied.

XXXXX

Thranduil warily eyed the cars that slowly rolled by them on the street. The strange machines were disconcerting, even if they were incredibly common. Strangely colored tubes glowed in the windows that lined the walkways. Happy voices filled the air, chattering, occasionally punctuated by a loud noise that reminded him of a war horn.

"Andy?" Thranduil continued to look around him and did not notice Lauren was no longer by his side. Irritated, he turned to face her with a snarl on his face.

"Did you intend to allow me to walk indefinitely?" He snapped at her. Instead of anger, a look of understanding softened her beautiful eyes and she approached him slowly. He felt her warm, tiny hand wrap around his and gently tug him back to the last shop entrance.

Thranduil felt guilty and ashamed for his behavior.

"I should not have spoken so harshly," he told her.

"Look at me," she commanded him. Slightly irritated with her tone, the elf looked into the eyes of the woman who held his heart as well as his secrets. "You have done nothing wrong. You're overwhelmed and that's okay. We'll leave whenever you feel like you want to go, okay?"

He bit back the acerbic reply and forced himself to nod his head silently a few times. She was human and did not understand the consequences of showing weakness but she was the only one who understood the nature of this weakness. Thranduil knew that he could not show any weakness to this potential rival, Dan O'Rourke, and so he would suffer through their coffee, as she put it.

"Thank you, meleth-nin," he said.

The first thing he noted about the little shop was its intimacy and non-threatening atmosphere. Small tables and chairs were scattered around a long counter with a short wall. In a corner opposite the door they entered was what appeared to be well-worn, over-upholstered sofas and chairs. Dim lighting bathed the room in soft gold while what he assumed to be music played in the background.

Moreover, he could smell the aromas of coffee, chocolate, and cream heavy in the air.

Customers sat alone, in couples, or small groups, some with books and others merely fingered steaming cups. He counted ten people, none of whom noticed them initially. Feeling slightly more relaxed, he followed Lauren across the shop to a table where a man with shoulder-length black hair reclined, his back to them.

"Dan?" She prodded him. As if he had heard their approach, the man she called Dan turned in his chair and rose with a grace known only to elves. Thranduil's heart rate immediately accelerated.

"Andy, this is Dan O'Rourke," Lauren said. "Dan, this is Andy Greenly."

Thranduil froze in place as the man called Dan O'Rourke stood and extended his hand toward him. The high forehead, aquiline nose, bow-shaped mouth and high cheekbones finished the portrait in his mind.

"Nice to meet you, Andy," said the man who called himself Dan O'Rourke, extending his hand. Thranduil took it gingerly, a little unsure of the custom he had seen in the picture plays, and allowed the dark-haired man to shake it.

"Mae govennon," Thranduil muttered without thinking. This drew a raised eyebrow from the man but he said nothing.

"Hey, Dan, I'm just going to grab some coffee," Lauren told him, a note of suspicion in her voice. "Andy, would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please love," he replied as he stared into Dan's familiar blue-gray eyes.

"Right," she muttered.

Dan sank back into his chair and Thranduil mimicked him, waiting.

"Your highness, it's a pleasure to see you again after all of these years," Dan remarked, lifting his cup and taking a long swig from it. Thranduil studied the man that he had watched grow from infancy.

"Elladan," Thranduil replied, his tone purposely cold.

"Still the same king of the Woodland Realm," Elladan replied bemusedly. "Haughty, arrogant, and a cold-hearted, unfeeling bastard."

Thranduil felt his anger rise at the impertinence of the younger elf. Elladan smirked at him, taking another long sip of his coffee.

"How did you come to be here?" The elder elf asked, ignoring the Elrondion's insults.

"'Come to be here', why your highness, I have been here since the merging of the realms," Elladan replied, chuckling. His smile grew even larger when Lauren returned to the table with two cups of coffee in her hand.

"Thank you, my love," Thranduil said softly, taking her free hand in his while she sat down. He pressed his lips against her soft skin, savoring the heavenly scent of her skin for a few moments before he pulled her hand into his lap.


	18. Chapter 18

Lauren glanced between her friend and the elf suspiciously. Removing her hand from Thranduil's grasp she eased backward in her chair, arms crossed over chest. Two sets of blue eyes stared at her, waiting.

"How was your trip, Dan?" She finally asked him.

"Boring and much too long," he replied. "The client paid well but finding his daughter required very little imagination and even less effort. Well, after the boyfriend stopped running interference."

"Someday you'll end up with a client who lives on a tropical island and more free time than you know what to do with," she teased him. Dan winced in response.

"And here I thought we were friends," he replied. Lauren recalled how miserable he had been when their group of friends decided to go to Mexico for spring break during their senior year of college. Dan had tolerated a week's worth of good-natured teasing about his pale skin and refusal to swim.

"So tell me, Andy," Dan drawled out the name. "How did you come to meet my old friend Lauren?"

"I - ."

"He ended up lost in the woods behind my house," she quickly cut him off. She could practically feel the elf's glare but chose to ignore it. "I brought him inside the house until the storm was over."

"Storm?" Dan questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, one of those strong summer storms that blows across the state from time to time," she supplied, hoping her voice did not sound too eager or high-pitched. Lying was not her forte.

"Strange," Dan muttered. "Well, it appears you were quite lucky then Andy. Tell me, where are you from originally?"

Lauren watched the man and the elf glare at each other. Something was very, very wrong, and it was more than Dan's usual paranoia and suspicion. Thranduil kept his mouth shut, making no effort to relay the cover story they had reviewed before they had left her house.

"Okay, gentlemen," she began. Much to her irritation, Thranduil held up a hand to silence her.

"Do you wish to tell her, or shall I, _Dan_?" He drawled over her friend's name mockingly.

"Would one of you mind telling me what the hell is going on?" She demanded, glaring at both of them in exasperation.

"You bastard," Dan hissed.

"Yes, you have already used that insult with me once this evening," Thranduil replied. "It would behoove you to tell her the truth now."

"I already know Thranduil and where he's from, Lauren," Dan told her. "I know because I used to make the journey from Imladris to Eryn Lesgalyn every few months to visit with Legolas."

Lauren's mind raced to process what she heard from her old friend. The pieces began to click into place and her jaw dropped in response.

"No, no, that's impossible," she began, shaking her head vigorously. "I've known you for ten years Dan. Something like that I would have …."

"Prosthetic ear pieces," he said softly. "Though I keep my hair longer so that I don't need them so much since they irritate the tips."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" She demanded. "You're one of my closest friends, Dan. That's one of those things that friends tell one another." Dan laughed at her while even Thranduil smiled a little. She realized she sounded naïve, so she waited.

"Really?" He asked her, then smiled gently at her. "You would have called me crazy and had me locked up. I mean, imagine how much worse it would've been had we gone on one of our hikes and then I said Lauren, by the way, I'm an elf straight out of Middle Earth." Lauren could not stop the small smile that turned up the corners of her mouth.

"Okay, you're right, it does sound ridiculous," she conceded. He patted her hand, drawing a murderous glare from Thranduil.

**"Do you have a claim to her?"** Dan asked Thranduil.

**"She is mine,"** Thranduil snapped.

**"She is not a possession to add to your collection, Thranduil,"** Dan replied, his expression dark. **"She has endured much hardship and she deserves someone who can love her for everything she is. You do not deserve her."**

** "You think I do not know that?" **Thranduil replied.

"Okay, okay, guys, really with the Sindarin," she cut them off. "So, do I call you Elladan now?"

"Uh, no," Dan replied. "I have been Dan for a long, long time, long before I was _your_ Dan." The inflection in his voice was directed toward Thranduil.

"Elrondion," she said. "You've always been Elrondion." Dan nodded his head.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted.

XXXXX

Questions whirled through his mind as he half listened to the younger explain to his Lauren how he had evaded detection for so many years.

'My Lauren,' he thought to himself, unable to stop the grin that curled up the sides of his mouth. Thranduil clasped her wrist and laced her fingers through his. He was rewarded with a squeeze that sent a warmth through his chest.

"What I do not understand is why you are here," he interjected. He did not miss Lauren's annoyed glare at him but he continued. "Why are you not in the Undying Lands?"

"You are _in_ the Undying Lands, Thranduil," Dan replied in a grave voice. The answer more than surprised him. The elf king suddenly felt light-headed, slowly easing backward in his chair until he could move no farther.

"Okay,_ I_ don't understand," Lauren said. "According to Tolkien's stories, the elves were to enter the Undying Lands once their time in Middle Earth was over."

"Yes, Tolkien," Dan mused. Thranduil turned toward the dark-haired elf.

"You have read these … stories," he said disdainfully. "How did this mortal learn of our history? There are a great many mistakes in these books."

"One thing at a time, gentlemen, please," Lauren pleaded.

"Then I'll start with the Undying Lands," Dan announced. "All of your kin did sail for the Undying Lands. The last ship left about four hundred years after your disappearance."

"Then what do you mean that these are the Undying Lands?" He demanded.

"All of the ships that left the Gray Havens passed into this world," Dan explained. "We landed in the southern part of what is now known as Canada."

Over the following two hours, Thranduil listened to the Elrondion as he relayed the history of the elves' arrival on Earth. Celeborn and Galadriel had disappeared almost immediately upon disembarking from their ship. Some of the elves had remained around the islands where they built colonies. A few of the elves had gone insane.

"Their minds were unable to process the … reality we faced," Dan explained. "Instead of peaceful perfection, we found ourselves in a very mortal realm where we were forced to conceal our existence from Men.

"It is very difficult to accept the promises made by our gods were, ultimately, empty. Those that were mentally unstable were sent to a small, isolated island."

"Your brother," Lauren surmised quietly. Elladan nodded, his eyes cast down toward the table.

"And what of my son?" Thranduil demanded. "What of Legolas?"

A sad smile played over Elladan's handsome face as he stared at Thranduil.

"He did not go to the island," Dan assured him. He glanced over their heads. "It's late and they're going to close. I'm willing to come over tomorrow and finish explaining things."

Elladan's icy blue eyes flicked from the elf king to the woman at his side.

"Yes, I don't think you have a choice now, Dan," she told him, a hint 0f wistfulness in her voice.


	19. Chapter 19

The ride back to her house was silent. Beside her, Thranduil's face was turned toward the passenger side window and he had become as still as a statue. Darkness had swallowed the beautiful sapphire of his eyes.

When they left the coffee house, Lauren had extracted a promise from Dan that he would return for dinner the following day and continue his tale. In turn, he requested her famous lasagna, including any leftovers from the meal. Lauren had readily agreed before the three parted ways for the night.

Thranduil had been entirely overwhelmed by the encounter with Dan. She had been slightly perturbed with the abrupt way he had ended his story of the elves' journey to earth but she sensed the elf king needed some time to process everything. Lauren was sympathetic since it was very recently her own belief in what constituted real and imaginary had been shattered by the appearance of the blonde elf on her property.

Lauren shut off the lights and turned off the engine once the car was in her driveway. As she opened the driver's side door, she felt a large, warm hand clasp her forearm to prevent her from moving.

"You are angry," he pronounced a moment later.

"I don't know if I'd go so far as to say I'm angry, Thranduil," she answered him. "But I'm not happy with the way Dan left things tonight."

"He has promised to come to your home tomorrow on the eve," he replied softly. Lauren nodded but her heart still ached for him. Even she had more questions than answers but she was too tired to even begin to sift through the information.

Thranduil lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss against her palm while he continued to stare at her. She smiled softly at him.

"I wish to walk within your woods," he said quietly. "I have much I need to think on and I fear I will be unable to concentrate if I am in your house."

"If you're asking me if I'm mad, the answer is 'no', Thranduil," she told him. "Go on. I know you can take care of yourself."

He pressed his soft lips against hers briefly before exited his side of the car. When she looked outside the car, he had disappeared.

XXXXX

"What are you thinking about, meleth-nin?" Thranduil's voice was soft, barely disturbing the quiet of the bedroom.

"How did you know I was awake?" She asked him.

"Magic," he teased her. When she did not respond, he sobered slightly. "I have watched you sleep many nights since my arrival."

Still, she said nothing. He started to become annoyed and concerned with her silence. Thranduil considered that she may not have been forthright when she told him she would not be angry with him for his walk in the woods. He had returned, his fea less troubled and he found that he actually looked forward to Elladan's arrival the next night.

Lauren had been in bed when he returned, eyes closed. Her breathing betrayed her wakefulness but he had decided to allow her to rest. Thranduil had climbed into her bed and pulled her tiny body against his and allowed her physical presence to sooth him.

"Lauren?" Thranduil's began. "Sweetheart, please do not ignore me." She was unable to stop the laughter that poured forth.

"Where did you learn _that_ term of endearment?" She asked him.

"Television," he replied, indignation apparent in his voice. "Do you not approve?"

"Of course I do," she said softly. "You could insult me and it would sound like music to me." Thranduil chuckled briefly at her characterization of his voice. His laughter became a gasp when he felt her bottom rub against his elfhood, which hardened immediately.

"Ai, woman, you seek to distract me," he sighed into her ear. "And I shall not succumb to your wiles until you tell me what troubles you so."

"I don't know if it really matters," she replied quietly.

"It matters to me, love," he told her. "Whatever occupies your mind is no small thing."

"What would happen if I returned with you to Middle Earth, Thranduil?" She finally managed to whisper.

The answer was simple and in his mind, there was no 'if'' he returned but 'when'. He would make her his wife and his queen. Thranduil knew that the kings in the mortal and dwarven realms had kept harems or concubines but he would not dishonor her.

"We shall wed and you will be crowned the queen of Eryn Lesgalyn, my love," he told her. She rolled over to face him, her hip brushing against his already throbbing erection and he bit back a moan.

"Thranduil, your people will never accept me as your wife, much less their queen," she told him seriously. He studied her face. Anxiety tightened her beautiful features and he did not resist the urge to kiss her forehead to comfort her.

"I swear to you, Lauren, they will accept you as their sovereign and show you the respect due to a queen," he told her softly. "My people have long been more open to Men than I."

"In spite of your speeches that Men and elves should not be together or have children?"

Thranduil felt his anger rise in response. He was well aware of his own words, the warnings he had repeated to his kin and subjects time and time again, and, moreover, centuries of arguments with his own son about the evil nature of Men. Thranduil had admitted to her that he had been wrong about Men yet she suddenly had doubts about his intentions toward her.

"I told you that I was wrong about Men, Lauren," he told her, an edge in his voice. "What more do you need to be convinced that I speak the truth?"

"And will you still believe that when, in forty or fifty years, I die?" She demanded. Thranduil felt a lump in his throat and his expression softened. He felt her fear as palpably as if it was his own.

"Lauren, darling," he began quietly, gently cupping her face. "No amount of time with you would ever be enough. Your love is a gift to me and I will cherish every moment I have with you, whether that be a few moments or fifty years."

He felt something warm and damp touch his hand. Thranduil pulled her closer, tenderly pressing his mouth to hers. He felt a desperate need to touch her, caress her everywhere to reassure himself that she was his and he gently pushed his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers tracing patterns against her soft skin.

Thranduil gently swiped his tongue over the seam of her lips before forcing her jaw open. He emitted a muffled moan while he tasted the sweet flavor of her mouth. Lauren's tongue met his and he pressed her closer while they dueled for dominance.

So involved in their kiss, Thranduil barely noticed that he was on his back until Lauren leaned backward. Her legs straddled his hips and he felt the heat of her core through the thin fabric of her panties. The instant she raised her hips, Thranduil's fingers took hold of the band around her hips and pulled it down her legs, breath catching in his throat as she lifted first her right and then her left legs so that he could slide off the garment.

The sweet aroma of her arousal intoxicated him and he cried out as her mouth closed over his left nipple. He combed his fingers through her long, soft hair while she sucked the sensitive flesh. Thranduil cupped her bottom with his other hand, pulling her down as he ground his hips against hers until he felt more of her wetness coating his bare cock.

Her mouth latched onto his other nipple. He hissed with pleasure, gasping when she bit down. Thranduil had never experienced such pleasure in his long life. Never had he allowed an elleth to take control, to dominate him.

"Melamin," he rasped, pushing her backward by her shoulders. His fingers clasped the bottom of the thin shirt she wore, pulling it over her head and exposing her pert, luscious breasts to the cool air of the room. Her nipples hardened without any assistance from his hands.

Then the pain in his groin became more acute and his instincts screamed at him to flip her over and ram his cock into her as far as he could. Out of half-lidded eyes, the elf king watched his beloved lift the head of his cock and press herself slowly down his shaft.

She was so wet and her movements were so slow, he felt as if he would combust. His blood boiled with desire and lust. With a slight push, he was sheathed as deeply as he had ever been and he literally arched upright.

"I understand not how your nether regions are so tight with the number of times I have taken you," he murmured, pulling her mouth to his. Lauren's hands clasped his shoulders while his lips trailed down her neck. He moaned in disappointment as she began to remove her warm, wet cavern from his elfhood before she thrust against him.

Lauren pushed him down to the mattress, effortlessly. Thranduil did not protest nor struggle, instead he gripped her hips as she rocked brought herself up and down in deliciously slow movements. His hands gripped her hips, watching her lithe body rise and fall against his, head thrown back and eyes closed.

Her breathy sighs became deep moans. Fighting back his climax, he felt himself caught in a trance as she rode him faster and faster. He thrust into her, bringing her pelvis down against his simultaneously.

"Thranduil," she whispered. "Oh gods, yes."

"I love you Lauren," he called out. "Lauren." He screamed as his climax overtook him, his cock pumping deeply into her, though he brought her down for a final thrust that sent her over the edge.

He sat bolt upright and pulled her into a tight embrace, murmuring to her in Sindarin. His own heart continued to pound rapidly against his chest as he gently stroked his lover's back.


	20. Chapter 20

Thranduil stared dully at the large block of soft, white cheese in his right hand and the device known as a 'cheese grater' clasped in his left hand. He had offered to assist her with creating the dish requested by Elladan for their dinner that night. When she told him to grate the cheese, he did not understand what she meant until she handed him the accoutrements.

"Wow, I really thought elves were smart than everyone," Lauren remarked. "Who would have thought the king of Eryn Lesgalyn, brave warrior, and war veteran, finally met his match in cube of mozzarella cheese."

He muttered several Sindarin curses under his breath in his irritation. Lauren chuckled but continued with her own work.

"Why are you preparing dinner at this hour?" He demanded. "Elladan will not arrive until seven o'clock."

Two small, warm hands covered his and removed the cheese and grater. He began to protest but found himself distracted by the rapid movement of her hand brushing the mozzarella against the grater.

"Once I have 'built' the lasagna, I can store it in the fridge and simply put it in the oven to bake," she explained in an even, reasonable voice. "Second, Dan is likely to show up at least half an hour early for drinks. That's just how he is."

With a deep scowl, Thranduil yanked the cheese and grater from her hands and proceeded to mimic her actions. He would not allow himself to be embarrassed or dishonored by failing to perform such a simple task. The possibility that she thought so little of him made his heart beat faster and his blood heat up with his anger.

Soft, rose petal lips pressed against his cheek and he felt the angst from her proximity start to dissipate. Never had he seen such a combination of ingredients and he was suspicious of how the dish could taste with so many flavors. Though, he knew that if Elladan ate this dish before then it was unlikely to be toxic to elves.

Thranduil watched as tiny pieces from the block flaked off, accumulating into a fairly large pile. When he finished, he glanced over his shoulder to see Lauren standing by her refrigerator, back to him, and he popped the last remnants of the cheese in his mouth. He smiled at the soft texture and gentle flavor of the cheese, unlike any he had ever before had or knew of in Middle Earth.

"I have finished with my task, my lady," he called out to her.

"Thank you Thranduil, I appreciate your help with this," she replied, giving him a gentle smile as she returned to finish the dish.

He wandered out of the kitchen area toward the living room area, restless. Elladan would not arrive for several more hours and already Thranduil felt the felt the familiar annoyance and impatience at being forced to wait.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing alerted him that Lauren had gone out into the yard behind the house. Somehow, the woman knew when he needed or wanted to be alone before he said a word. He pushed that thought into the back of his mind to be pondered later.

_Thranduil crossed his arms over his chest and waited. The elfling notched his arrow, his face a mask of pure concentration, and then released the string to send the tip flying toward the target. The arrow lodged in the beige area outside of the blue bulls' eye. _

_**"This is hopeless," **__the elfling sighed, his chin fell against his chest_ in _acknowledgment of his failure. The elven king counted seven arrows lodged at various angles around the target, none any closer to the center than six inches._

_**"Ion, you cannot fall into despair so early in your training,"**__ Thranduil admonished him. __**"Archers require years to perfect their skill and you have only just started your lessons."**_

_** "I do not wish to wait for many years, adar,"**__ he replied petulantly. __**"I wish to strike the center with my arrow."**__ Thranduil chuckled and shook his head at Legolas' impatience with his slow beginning. _

_**"And I wish I had wings,"**__ he retorted. __**"Your goal is attainable with repetition, patience, and perseverance. Even if you **_**did**_** master your bow in less than a fortnight you are not ready to join the patrols nor go into battle."**_

_ Legolas turned toward his father, his sapphire eyes focused on Thranduil as his jaw clenched. He stiffened at the familiar movements that indicated the elfling would ask a difficult question._

_**"Then how did you become a master archer, adar?"**__ The elfling asked. Thranduil sighed, aware Legolas had heard tales from the servants and his advisors about his legendary temper and impatience. _

_**"My stubborn nature,"**__ Thranduil replied. __**"A few cuffs to the head from my instructors to knock some sense into me and an arrow through my arm." **__Legolas' eyes grew huge as his father mentioned corporal punishment. Thranduil had never raised a hand to his son nor had he ever made such a threat; Legolas was rarely wayward enough to merit anything more than a week mucking out the palace stables for any misbehavior. _

_**"Let us say, ion, that I was not always the well-mannered ellon you see before you now," **__he chuckled at his son's expression. __**"I required a firmer hand on the occasion."**_

_Thranduil moved behind his son for a different perspective with regard to his technique. As he notched the arrow, he continued to breathe which made his stance unsteady and the tip moved to create an angle that sent the arrow away from the mark. _

_**"Hold your breath as you draw the string backward and make certain the tip and the center never stray,"**__ Thranduil told him. The elfling drew back his arm and held his breath as instructed, a moment later releasing the arrow which struck the outer edge of the blue target center. _

_**"Excellent,"**__ he said, nodding in approval at his son. __**"Much improved!"**_

_ Legolas preened with Thranduil's praise. He watched as his son notched another arrow and let it fly toward the target._

Thranduil sighed, crossing his arms over his as he became aware of his reality once more. On the other side, Lauren stood leaning against the railing that surrounded her desk, a book in her hands and her seductive little bottom protruded in his direction.

He wanted the answers to the questions that plagued him. Moreover, he needed to know what happened to his son. In the deepest recesses of his heart burned the hope that Legolas had survived and that they could be reunited.

XXXXX

Lauren turned the page of her book and repressed the urge to wince. Fortunately, she had selected a novel that she had read several times over the years so she did not feel the need to pay the same rapt attention to the characters, story, or plot. Her stomach rolled and twisted in anticipation of Dan's arrival.

Thranduil remained inside the house, edgy, easily angered, and generally anxious. Her presence seemed to heighten his agitation and she resolved to remain out of his way until she could no longer avoid him.

A bitter smile lifted the corners of her lips. Her personal life was a train wreck, something she managed to keep largely hidden from Thranduil. Yet, she found herself amused by the fact that she loved, not a mortal Man, but an ancient elf king who also happened to be a single father and a widower.

Carefully, she moved the flap of the dust cover into the space where she had been reading. Lauren placed her book on the table and allowed herself to wander into the woods on the western edge of her property. The uneven terrain and washed out trails made it less desirable for a casual walk but there were tall oaks, maples, and walnut trees as well gullies that seemed to be nothing but fern fronds.

She entered the woods and felt the stress of the past several weeks disappear. Her failures seemed less important as she moved freely among the trees. For a few fleeting seconds, she wondered if the freedom she felt was at all similar to the way the elves felt in the forests.

'Of course, elves talk to trees and if I heard a tree talk back, I'd be committed,' she mused wryly.

The former owner had cut a series of steps into the side of a gully, using slabs of slate for something solid and reliable in the wake of wash outs and time. Lauren slowly trudged up the stairs, a trek she had infrequently made in the two years she had owned the property. When she reached the top, she placed her hands on her hips before she lifted her head.

Lauren gasped at what sprawled before her. Moss crawled over rocks that lay scattered among the waving green fern fronds. High overhead, she heard the leaves whisper their incomprehensible secrets to one another. Sunlight danced across her face, disappearing and reappearing through the breaks in the overhead branches.

She did not realize she had lost track of time until the flashes of sunlight struck her face from a markedly different angle. Shaking her head, Lauren proceeded to jog down the steps and back toward her house.

What she saw on the outside patio made her stop in her tracks, cold.

Less than twenty-five feet away, she distinctly heard Terri's flirtatious laughter as she tossed her red hair over her shoulder. Thranduil briefly hovered into view, a broad, lazy smile on his face as he watched the red head. Lauren was more than familiar with her friend's seductive body language, the extra touches and inadvertent physical contact that drew men to her side.

Scream, cry, pound her fists against the ground, all of these options sped through Lauren's mind. The elf she loved and her best friend seemed intent on growing intimately closer to each other.

Dirty and tired, Lauren pasted a smile on her face for the benefit of her best friend and her soon-to-be ex-lover.

"Terri, hey!" She exclaimed. Cursory kisses were exchanged in the European style as Terri pushed her backward by the shoulders.

"I was wondering where you went!" The lovely red head drew her into a light embrace.

"Dear gods, woman, I need a shower," Lauren teased her.

"Clearly," Terri replied. "How long were you out there?"

"A while," Lauren replied. "I have the time. Besides, I can't sit and concentrate with all this energy to burn." She pretended to ignore Thranduil's stare.

"Good point," Terri conceded. "In any event, Andy seems to have been a little lonely. I'll keep him company while you make yourself presentable for the general public." Terri winked one of her hazel-brown eyes at her. Lauren smirked, shook her head, and stalked toward the house and a shower.

As soon as she closed the shower curtain Lauren allowed the tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of déjà vu was not lost on her at that moment.

Lauren emerged from the house feeling clean, but no better. Terri and Thranduil had since moved to the chairs around the table with Terri's chair a little closer to Thranduil than was considered merely friendly. Occasionally she would touch his arm, his shoulder, or his leg.

Thranduil, much to Lauren's dismay, appeared to be absorbing all of the attention like a sponge in water.

"You stole your father's favorite horse?" Terri exclaimed with false surprise. Thranduil nodded a few times.

"I was so young that it had not occurred to me that my punishment would be worse once he caught me," he replied, visibly wincing.

"How many days until you could sit down again?" Terri teased. He tilted his head in curiosity, opening his mouth before Lauren stepped into the intimate conversation.

"She means, how badly did your father beat you?" She clarified, sharing a mischievous grin with Terri.

"Ah, I see," the elf said, settling back in his chair. "That was not the worst of the discipline I received as a … youth but it was one of the most memorable," Thranduil said, chuckling.

"You know, I'm so glad your memories have come back, Andy," Terri said, lightly brushing her fingers over his hand.

"They have not all returned to me, Terri," he said. "I merely remember that I am from Ireland and some things about my youth."

Lauren carefully controlled her features to prevent the shock from expressing itself on her face. She wondered how he had learned of Ireland and, moreover, whether he realized the lie was perfect due to his brogue. A mental note was added to her list to find out just what he watched on her television.

"Progress is progress," Terri chided him.

"Speaking of progress," Lauren interjected. "I thought we had moved beyond you popping over here every time you don't want to cook." Terri's eyes sparkled and Lauren knew her friend was about to confirm her invitation to lunch, possibly dinner.

"Well, thank you for offering, I'd be delighted," she replied. "And don't I always help you clean up anyway?"

"Is Dan not coming over this night to dine with us?" Thranduil burst in suddenly, a small note of panic in his voice.

"Dan? Our Dan?" Terri asked her while Lauren nodded.

"Yeah, he's back in town and he invited himself over for lasagna tonight," Lauren replied.

"Of course he did," Terri answered, unsurprised. "I haven't seen him in ages either."

"Oh, so now you're inviting yourself over for dinner too?" Lauren asked with mock incredulity. "You're lucky you're one of my oldest friends, as is he." The double meaning of the statement made her lips quirk up in a bemused smile. Terri merely smiling while she quickly twisted her hair on top of her head and clipped it, giving it the elegant messy look.

"Lauren, I do not think you made enough food for an additional guest," Thranduil said, a warning in his tone. Lauren raised her eyebrows to acknowledge she understood his message, then she shrugged.

"Of course she did, Andy!" Terri exclaimed. "She makes enough for a small army. It will be fine." Another brush against his shoulder. He was unresponsive to her touch.

'Interesting,' Lauren thought. 'Perhaps I … no, wait. Terri will simply take that as a greater challenge to seduce him. Best not get my hopes up, especially with an ego like his and the fact I can't stand to appeal to anyone's vanity.'

Terri excused herself, the long skirt of her blue sundress swishing about her legs as she strode toward the door. The instant it closed, Thranduil whirled around to face her with his patented icy expression.

"You were gone and that … that … woman appeared, almost behaving as if she was mistress of the house," Thranduil sputtered. Lauren did not know what was funnier: Thranduil's indignation on her behalf or the angry elf's seeming inability to speak. "And she continues to take liberties with me."

"Oh?" Lauren asked, amused. "What liberties would those be?" Thranduil clenched his brilliant white teeth together, seething.

"Perhaps you have not noticed she insists on touching me, frequently," he said, anger blazing in his eyes. "The only reason I have said naught about it to her is that she is your friend and I do not wish to accidentally offend her, thereby angering you."

"So you're saying you're putting up with her violations of your personal space because you think I'll be mad if you ask her to stop?" Lauren recapped.

"Yes!" He hissed.

"I don't understand the problem," Lauren pretended to be confused, tapping her index finger on her chin. "You're very tactile with me and you allow me to touch you _very_ intimately."

"Because I am in love with you and you are my intended!" He exclaimed.

"Alright, alright," she put her hands up. "I should throw you under the bus but it would be better if _I_ tell her - ."

"Tell her what?" Terri's voice cut in. "Why would you throw poor Andy under the bus?" She placed her long, manicured hands on each of Thranduil's shoulders. The elf's body visibly tensed while he glared daggers at Lauren.

"That Andy would feel more comfortable, at least while he's staying here, if you would call ahead to say that you're coming instead of just showing up," Lauren covered quickly. Terri's eyebrows rose and Lauren wondered if her intelligent doubted her, or was too far gone on her mission to sleep with Thranduil and simply bought her excuse.

Lauren pointedly ignored Thranduil's glare.

"Right, so with that said, I'm going to make some sandwiches," Lauren said brightly, contemplating whether she would be stabbed before or after Terri left.

Meanwhile, she began to wrack her brain to find some way, any way, to induce or force Terri to leave. One thing was certain: There would be no way for Dan to finish his story if Terri was still present.

"Oh, do you need some help?" Terri asked before making her eyes slide her eyes toward Thranduil and then back to look at her. Thranduil merely glared at her. With a sigh, Lauren nodded her head.

"Unfortunately, yes," Lauren answered.


	21. Chapter 21

Dan appeared at the front door an hour early.

"Is that Terri's car in your driveway?" He asked Lauren incredulously.

"Yes, she's in the kitchen right now, cleaning up," Lauren replied.

"But – "

"Dan!" Terri called out, drying her hands with a towel. She ran up and hugged him. "I had no idea you were even back in town until this afternoon. How was your trip?"

Lauren shrugged, gesturing for the dark-haired elf to follow her to the deck where she had left an enraged Thranduil. She was touched that he projected a façade of complete calm, arrogance, and charm on her behalf.

The sandwiches had occupied Terri's hands so that she was unable to touch him, though the flirting continued. Lauren found herself transported ten years into the past, to the days when she, Terri, Dan, and a few others would have dinner in the large dining where Terri would hold court for the young men. She remembered watching her friend charm them.

More than once she had been approached by one of Terri's admirers, which had briefly sparked hope that a guy had finally noticed her only to have that hope dashed when the guy pumped her for information about her friend. Eventually, except for Dan, any time a guy approached her she presumed just wanted to get close to her friend and she grew defensive and cold toward men in general.

"Andy's on the deck, Dan," Lauren told him.

"Actually Lauren, if you don't mind, I have a little legal issue that I need to speak with you about," he replied.

"Oh, well someone needs to keep Andy company," Terri said brightly.

"Okay, we'll be out shortly," Lauren called out over her shoulder while she herded Dan toward her office. Once she shut the door behind her Dan promptly commenced his rant.

"I know, I know, I've been trying to get rid of her," she said, holding up a hand. "She came over unexpectedly and uninvited. She's on a mission."

"Really? What's this mission?" Dan demanded.

"Apparently, to sleep with Thranduil," she replied sarcastically.

"So then, she doesn't know about you and he …," Dan trailed off. "Did you she tell you that was her goal?" Lauren rolled her eyes and groaned.

"She didn't need to," she replied. "She's pulled out every little trick she knows. She's trying to way too hard."

"What brought this on?" Dan asked her, leaning against her desk and knocking over a tall stack of papers. Lauren sighed and shook her head.

"They met at my friend Tim's surprise fortieth birthday party," she said. "He rejected her and she was - ."

"Devastated," he finished for her. "She's never been rejected before." The elf started chuckling, much to Lauren's dismay, which grew into pure laughter when he glanced at her.

"The irony is amazing," he commented. "After all these years, she finally experiences how it feels to be spurned. I'm looking forward to her reaction when she finds out Thranduil is in love with you."

"And the end of my friendship with her," Lauren grumbled. "I don't need this today."

"No one ever needs melodramatic bullshit, mellon-nin," Dan replied. "Unfortunately, we don't always have the luxury of a completely mundane life."

"Thanks for the life lesson, oh wise sage," she snapped at him. "Good to know after several thousand years your life experience and advice is repetitive."

"Whoa! Lauren, calm down," he said, his hands making a pushing motion toward the floor. "Anyway, it just means that more things change, the more they stay the same. But I digress."

"We could reschedule," she offered, giving him a half shrug. Dan scowled at her.

"Right," he replied. "Then I won't get the lasagna you promised and you will still have to deal with a short-tempered elven king who, I imagine, is chomping at the bit even now."

"I'm sure something will present itself," she assured him. "Come on, I'm afraid to leave alone for very long."

"Do you think Terri's going to jump him?" Dan teased her.

"No, I think Thranduil will stab her through the heart," she replied honestly.

Warily, Dan shook his head before he gestured toward the office door.

XXXXX

Thranduil's anger had boiled over, into a rage. The red-headed woman had prattled unceasingly for at least fifteen minutes and he had not seen Lauren in more than twice as long.

"Andy?" Terri queried. He forced himself to reassume his charming persona, smiling.

"Yes Terri?" He replied.

"You seem so far away," she continued. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," he replied. "Do go on."

He was grateful when he heard the sliding glass door open and a pair of feet lightly move across the wooden boards. A soft breeze carried her familiar scent and he felt the fury slowly diffuse, tension easing.

"Dan," he greeted the younger elf. Dan reached out his hand and clasped the king's forearm firmly.

"Andy," Dan said. "Good to see you again." Lauren attempted to move past them but he quickly reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her into his lap, pressing her tightly against his body as he buried his face into the back of her neck.

Terri's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"So you _have_ been hiding a guy from me," she teased her friend, a charming smile on her face. Thranduil admired her nearly seamless transition from would-be seductress to curious onlooker. Lauren's body suddenly tensed but he pressed her firmly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Lauren asked, squirming slightly. "No I haven't. This just sort of happened." He could feel himself start to grow hard. He tightened his grip around her to stop her movements so that he did not find himself in an embarrassing situation.

"Did _you_ know about this?" Terri turned to Dan, her tone playful. He shrugged, smiling at the red-head.

"Yeah," he replied. "I was just as surprised as you. Our little Lauren is growing up."

Her body tensed even more. Thranduil began absently brushing his thumb lightly against her back in a soothing gesture.

"I hate you both," she told them. Both Terri and Dan smirked at her.

"Well, I'm thrilled for you both," Terri said, somewhat disingenuously.

"We're not in high school anymore, Terri," Lauren quickly pointed out. "These things just sort of happen sometimes."

"Mmm hmm," the other woman shook her head. Then she sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "As much as I would love to dip into your wine cellar tonight, I have to get going. Unfortunately, I have a meeting tomorrow morning and I need to get some work done before I've lost too much time."

Thranduil allowed Lauren's chestnut hair to cover his grin. Whatever this meeting was she certainly did not mention it when she chose to stay for supper.

"I thought you were staying for supper," Lauren protested quickly.

"No, I was staying to convince you to open that bottle of eighty-six you've been hording," Terri corrected, chuckling. "Dinner was just an excuse." Lauren shook her head, laughing.

"I'll walk you out," she told her friend, carefully climbing off Thranduil's lap. He did not want to release her but she was nothing if not polite and he did not want to anger her. His own anger had not entirely disappeared from her earlier behavior.

"I'll be back," Lauren said to him. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss against the palm as he watched her. A beautiful flush remained on her cheeks and suddenly he wanted it to see spread over her entire, naked body.

"Alright, I shall be here," he told her.

**"You **_**have**_** changed, your highness,"** Dan remarked once they heard the door close. Thranduil lifted an eyebrow at the raven-haired elf.

**"What do you mean, Elladan?"** He asked.

**"If we were in Greenwood, you would have lost your temper with the red-head's presumptuous acts of intimacy with you,"** Dan said. **"Lauren said you tolerated Terri's behavior in spite of your discomfort."**

** "I love her,"** Thranduil sighed. **"I would do anything to make her happy, anything to keep her by my side. If that means I must tolerate that wench she calls a friend, so be it."**

XXXXX

Once they had reached the driveway, Terri immediately whirled around to face her with a look of murder on her face. Her hazel eyes glittered with fury.

"How could you do that to me?" Terri demanded.

"Do _what_ to you?" Lauren asked, feigning confusion. Terri placed her hands on her hips, her bow-tie mouth drawn into a thin line. Lauren knew she was about to receive one of Terri's rare tongue lashings.

"You and Andy are together and you let me chase after him, making a fool out of myself!" She exclaimed. "We've been friends a very long time, Lauren. I've never done anything like that to you."

"Okay, first of all, calm down," Lauren said, raising her hands in surrender. "Like I said, it only just happened a couple of days ago and I didn't exactly have time, not to mention the privacy, to call you and gush over it.

"Second, you just show up at my door on this mission to seduce him and you pull out all the stops. What would have been more embarrassing: Telling you in front of him or waiting until we had a few minutes of privacy?"

"We were in your damn kitchen for half an hour!" Terri exclaimed.

"We were preparing and cleaning up lunch," Lauren retorted. "Meanwhile, you kept running out there to check on him and you were in some stream of consciousness mode … about _him_! How the hell was I supposed to tell you during all of _that_?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

"You should have found a way," Terri retorted. "I can't believe this. It just keeps worse and worse."

"You know Terri, you and I have known each other for more than ten years," Lauren said. "And I've watched you go through men the way most of us go through socks. Maybe it was finally time for you to be shot down."

"Oh, so that's what this is about? Jealousy," Terri exclaimed, laughing bitterly. "You've always been the ice queen around men. You've never given enough of a damn about yourself to even catch a man's interest. Frankly, I can't figure out what a gorgeous creature like that sees in someone like you."

"Good-bye Terri," Lauren said curtly, holding her hand out.

"What?"

"The keys to my house," Lauren replied. "Now." The taller woman pulled the keys from her purse and made a show of removing the keys from the ring before slamming them into Lauren's hand.

"Satisfied?" Terri asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You have two minutes to get off my property," Lauren replied, easing onto her back leg as she waited. Terri threw up her hands and stalked over to her car.

Lauren did not see the Lexus roll down the driveway. Instead, she wondered at the feelings of relief and sudden freedom she felt.


	22. Chapter 22

Thranduil forced himself to rise slowly from his seat as Lauren's footstep's drew closer to the deck. Dan followed suit, leaning against the table while his fingers curled around the edge.

**"Do not volunteer the information but do not lie to her if she asks whether you heard their disagreement,"** Dan told him. Thranduil glared at the other elf briefly before he returned his attention to Lauren. Her hazel-green eyes were clear but unfocused as she slowly strode through the grass, lost in thought.

**"I forbid her from seeing that horrid, lying witch ever again,"** Thranduil seethed.

**"I would not be so quick to start handing down edicts, Thranduil,"** Dan told him.

"Sindarin, again?" She said with mock exasperation. "Really guys?" Hands on her hips, she looked from one elf to the other and started to laugh. Dan's face broke into an enormous grin and Thranduil suddenly had the feeling he had missed a private joke between the two.

"Okay, enough distractions and melodrama," Lauren said. "Dan, the floor is yours." She took a seat at the table between them.

"Where was I?" He teased her. Thranduil shot the peredhel his most severe glare. "Oh, right! Legolas."

Dan continued his tale with Legolas' arrival four hundred years later. The elf prince had remained in Middle Earth until he was the very last elf. In spite of the taboo against doing so, many of the ellyn had taken mortal wives and sired many peredhel. Legolas had chosen to remain unmarried and after several generations of peredhel were born, he decided to sail.

"He was not well when he arrived at the colony," Dan said. "The ship on which he sailed was filled with the ellyn and many of their peredhel children and grandchildren. At this point, I had been chosen as the ruler of the colony and part of my duties were to meet the passengers from the ships.

"Legolas and I had been friends for three millennia and he was almost like another brother to Rory and myself. When he stepped onto the shore, I barely recognized him. The vitality had left his eyes and he had grown far more pale than any other elf I had encountered in centuries."

Thranduil felt his heart accelerate and a lump rose to his throat. With all of the dignity he could manage, he swallowed back his tears and ignored the tightness that had developed in his chest. His son, his precious child had been fading from grief.

"Depression?" Lauren asked Dan. Thranduil tilted his head curiously toward her. The word was unfamiliar to him.

"Aye," Dan nodded. "He had waited to sail until after the death of his beloved and when he had finally been forced to give up hope that Thranduil was still in Middle Earth. It wasn't fading as we knew it at the time as Tolkien described it in _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy."

Thranduil unconsciously balled his hands into fists, clenching his teeth. The mortal author had made so many errors in his stories that he had been too angry to finish the series once he reached, _Return of the King_.

"Legolas was literally depressed," she responded. "As we know it now."

"I am sorry to interrupt this fascinating analysis of my son but would one of you kindly explain to me the meaning of this word, 'depressed'?" Thranduil heard himself snap. Lauren carefully shifted herself farther away from while Dan gave him a sympathetic look.

"A very long-lasting state of intense sadness or sometimes emotional numbness," Lauren explained to him softly. "Excuse me, I need to get the lasagna in the oven." Without waiting for leave by either of her guests Lauren launched herself from her chair.

He sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair as he struggled to regain control of his emotions. Reconciling the smiling, happy elfling with this image of a sickly, morose ellon.

**"I shall wait until she returns, my lord,"** Dan said.

**"Am I doomed to forever hurt those I love, Elladan?"** He asked. Dan shook his head in obvious disagreement with the elder elf's assessment.

** "No love is perfect, Thranduil," **Dan replied. **"The question is whether you are willing to endure the pain that accompanies the pleasure."**

** "I would do anything for her," **Thranduil whispered to no one in particular.

**"She endured much before even **_**I**_** entered her life,"** Dan told him. The elvenking could feel the stare of the other elf's eyes. **"You do not know as much about her as you wish to believe."**

He knew Dan spoke the truth about Lauren. He loved her but he knew he had not applied enough pressure upon to reveal the secrets she held closely. Nothing she may have done, or that happened to her, could ever change the way he felt for the mortal woman.

**"I fear I shall never earn her trust," **the elvenking confessed. Dan laughed at Thranduil's confused confession.

**"You must **_**show her**_** that you are trustworthy,"** he replied.

The blonde elf practically leapt to his feet when Lauren reappeared a few minutes later. She smiled disingenuously at both elves before she sank into a seat a few feet away from the both of them.

"Forty-five minutes, gentleelves," she teased them. Dan grinned at her while Thranduil watched her in what he hoped appeared to be apathy.

"Excellent, plenty of time to continue my tale," Dan replied.

_ Elladan did not move as Legolas staggered toward him. There were dark circles beneath the eyes of the younger elf and the sparkle in his sapphire eyes had disappeared. The other elves on the ship had dissipated among the healers and elven couples who agreed to shelter the late-comers. He brought the blonde elf into a friendship-filled embrace, the younger elf's strength waning. _

_**"Is this the Undying Lands?"**__ Legolas rasped. _

_**"Aye, my friend, I fear so,"**__ Elladan replied, gently stroking his friend's long, blonde tresses. _

_**"Then it was all a lie,"**__ Legolas said, defeat heavy in his tone. __**"Everything they taught us, everything we were told to expect was nothing more than a pretty story."**_

_** "Legolas, look at me,"**__ Elladan admonished him. Slowly, the crown prince drew backward until was able to carefully maintain two feet of distance between them.__** "We are alive. That was all we were ever promised." **_

_**"Is it truly?"**__ Legolas replied. __**"We were promised - ."**_

_**"You shall stay in my home, as my guest,"**__ Elladan cut him off. _

_**"And what of your wife?"**__ Legolas replied, attempting to appear lascivious. _

_**"No wife, only the occasional elleth with him I share my bed for a night,"**__ Elladan told him, a knowing gleam in his eyes. __**"But all of that shall be discussed later, over a meal, after you have rested." **_

_ Remaining close beside his friend, Elladan led the crown prince of Eryn Lesgalyn to the manor house where he dwelled. The instant the door opened, his servants descended upon them with questions and requests for orders._

_**"Rest, my friend, and we shall dine once you wake," **__Elladan told him. Prawin, his steward, guided Legolas to a guest room on the opposite side of the house. _

_**"My lord, does he wish for comfort?"**__ The silver-blonde handmaiden appeared uncertain. Elladan had bedded her on many occasions since she came into his employ but she could be depended upon to remember her duties and perform them to his satisfaction. _

Dan paused, his eyes purposely cast away from Thranduil and Lauren. Something about this part of his story was both necessary and yet drew humiliation to the forefront of the elf's demeanor.

"What's wrong, Dan?" Lauren asked, leaning toward her friend.

"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, little one," Dan told her, gratefully clasping her hand in his . A sharp pang of jealousy shot through Thranduil as he watched the intimate exchange between them.

"I do not understand," he admitted. "What does that mean? Hindsigh is 'twenty-twenty'?"

"Twenty-twenty is perfect eyesight for a mortal," Dan began. "It's simply an expression that means you see the past more clearly after the mistakes have been made."

Thranduil's hands squeezed the armrests of his chair. The material beneath his fingers cracked with the force he exerted. A small, cool hand clasped his. He looked up to see the familiar hazel-green eyes observing him, concerned. He placed his other hand over theirs and offered her a small smile.

XXXXX

Lauren desperately wanted to pull Thranduil into her arms to comfort him. Dan's tale was nothing like either of them had expected but she knew it affected the elvenking on a far deeper level than she was likely to ever understand.

"I think his friendship with Estel, his time in the Fellowship, and the mortal woman he courted destroyed his attraction to our kind," Dan admitted.

_ Elladan heard a small sob from the opposite wing of the manor. Slowly, he opened his door to see the handmaiden scurrying away from Legolas' chambers. Wearing only his breaches, Elladan stepped outside of his chambers and directly into her path with his arms outstretched to catch her. _

_** "He … he did not … did not want …,"**__ she attempted to draw in deep breaths. Elladan brought the beautiful young elleth into his embrace. _

_** "Shh, beautiful one," **__he began. __**"Lord Legolas has had a very long, very difficult journey. He is exhausted and needs rest. I sent you to offer him comfort. You have done nothing wrong."**_

_**"Are you suggesting that perhaps the prince prefers males, my lord?" **__She asked him, turning her tearful face upward. _

_**"I know not," **__he admitted. __**"But he and I have been friends for so long that I know he would never attempt to injure your feelings, Tarian."**_

___The explanation satisfied the elleth, who glanced at the floor coquettishly as her master continued to study her. Aroused, Elladan brought Tarian into his chambers where they pleasured each other through the night. _

"Seriously Dan?!" Lauren interrupted him, her hands thrown up in exasperation. "Was that little detail necessary? I can't speak for Thranduil but I don't want to hear about you nailing your employees in medieval times. It's not even relevant to the story!"

Thranduil did not know the term, 'nailing' but he suspected it had something to do with mating. He shared a smirk with Dan but remained quiet.

"Oh, come now, mellon-nin," he began, taking her right hand in his. "I would be more than happy to listen to graphically detailed stories of _you_ getting nailed by your royal guest."

"Shut _up_ Dan!" She practically shrieked, causing Thranduil and Dan to wince. "Are you going to continue with the story or just think up new, creative, and lewd ways to torture me?" Dan did not even attempt to hide his laughter but Thranduil did not miss the glare of impending death his woman gave the darker elf. He also wanted the peredhel to continue.

"Right, anyway …."

_ Legolas was no better the following day. Elladan found his friend perched high in a tree on the edge of the forest. The blonde elf's sapphire gaze faced south, intently focused on something Elladan could not detect and suspected was one of the many demons that plagued his mind. _

_**"What happened to you, my friend?"**__ Elladan finally ventured to ask. _

_**"Fate, destiny, I know not,"**__ Legolas attempted to make light of the question, a bitter smile on his pale face. _

_**"Nay, my lord, you shall not escape so easily,"**__ Elladan replied. __**"You are much changed and you co-exist with your grief, a thing I have never observed among our kind. What made you so?"**_

_ Legolas continued to stare ahead, though his jaw moved as it normally did when he tamped down hurtful or unwise words. _

_** "When Carowyn died, I was certain my time had ended and I would fade from grief," **__he began. __**"My mother gone, my father disappeared, my dearest friends either sailed or dead, and I realized I was finally alone. Seventy-five years passed as more and more of the elves left Ithilien for the Undying Lands -." **__Elladan emitted an ungentleelfly snort._

_**" – until there were only fifteen of us in all of Middle Earth, living within the castle. And I, I performed the daily actions of living but with each year that passed, more of me died until there was nothing left of Legolas Thranduilion."**_

_**"Yet you did not fade,"**__ Elladan commented. _

_**"Nay, I did not,"**__ Legolas replied. __**"Though many a night, as I lay in bed, I wished I had, or that some great war or other battle would come so that the misery would stop the pain in my heart and my soul."**_

_**"Then why did you sail?"**__ The darker elf asked quietly. _

_**"One day, after another obnoxious affair of state with an equally heinous lord, I was approached by my steward, Fiovir,"**__ he replied. __**"He told me the time had come to join our kin. I had served the realm and now I deserved rest and a chance to heal my unseen wounds. A month later, we were on the last ship making our way across the sea here.**_

_** "Though I did not, and do not, expect to ever heal, I certainly thought that the Undying Lands were vastly different. There is so much sadness and grief here, it weighs heavily on the air."**_

_** "We were not told the truth, my friend," **__said Elladan with a sigh. __**"Many of our kin have passed from life altogether. Some have gone mad and were banished. Others, like Galadriel and Celeborn, have disappeared entirely. I was made the governor of this colony and yet I wonder how long I may withstand the painful reality in which we find ourselves. **_

_** "I believe that there is more out there, much more. This is an entire world and not a mere isle. We have made this place our prison."**_

_** "Did not our forbears come from the Undying Lands?" **__Legolas asked, sadness in his voice. _

_**"I no longer know the answer to that question, Legolas,"**__ he admitted. __**"While I do wish to know of our true origins, I cannot help but think that we may be here for some other purpose than merely a reward for our efforts in Middle Earth."**_

_**"Some reward indeed," **__Legolas sniffed, ripping a small twig from a branch. __**"And these trees, I cannot understand what they say. They sing more than any tree I ever encountered."**_

___Elladan clapped a friendly hand on Legolas' knee. His friend's only response was a wry smile._

_**"Tarian is of a mind you prefer ellyn to ellyth,"**__ Elladan remarked, chuckling. _

_**"Then I offended her when I asked her to leave my chambers?"**__ Legolas asked offhandedly._

_**"Aye, though I see affairs of the heart is not a prominent concern of yours, presently," **__Elladan replied. _

_**"You know me well, mellon-nin,"**__ Legolas replied. __**"Though if the need arises while I stay with you, I shall be certain to seek her out."**_

_** "Come, let me show you the colony," **__Elladan offered him. __**"Perhaps a change in scenery will calm your mind and soothe your soul."**_

_** "Were it only that easy," **__Legolas sighed, though he followed Elladan to the forest floor, running to catch up as the older elf led him toward the population center of what had recently been dubbed, "New Ithilien."_

XXXXX

In spite of Thranduil's vigorous protests, Dan courteously complied when Lauren asked him to wait until dinner was served before he continued his tale. She could feel the blonde elf's eyes on her as she retreated into the kitchen to prepare for dinner. The heavy noise of the glass door closing cut off the twittering of Sindarin she heard exchanged between her favorite elves.

Dan and Thranduil made an effort to speak Common, even though Lauren was not at all participating in the conversation except to thank them for their compliments on her cooking. A hand on her left thigh startled her from her reverie and she glanced up to see Thranduil's sapphire eyes peering deeply into hers. Slowly, the elvenking leaned forward and gently kissed her left cheek. Lauren noticed he had not removed his hand from her leg.

"Alright Dan, enough is enough," Lauren chastised her friend. "You've got more story and I've got time to listen."

"You've also got a very large bottle of Jack I gave you for Christmas two years ago that remains unopened," Dan replied, a mischievous gleam in his gray-blue eyes.

"Why does everyone think it's okay to raid my liquor cabinet?" She asked rhetorically, eyes lifted toward the vaulted ceiling of her kitchen.

"Because you are the best hostest _ever_," Dan mocked her. Lauren rolled her eyes as Dan shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth.

"Now that I know you were a prince, I'm less inclined to forgive you for eating like a seventeen-year-old human boy," she teased him. Dan dropped his fork onto the plate and shot her a mock glare.

"This is a democratic republic, my friend," he told her. "That means that my former title no longer matters and I can eat like all modern men."

"Disgusting," she retorted, rolling her eyes as she settled back in her chair.

"But you still claim me as a friend," he taunted her, winking.

"If you were really my friend," Lauren paused for dramatic effect. "Then you would stop stuffing your face and continue with the story. Don't worry, man - if your pasta gets cold I have a microwave."

"I'm starting to feel more like a hostage and less like a guest," Dan groused.

"Really?" Lauren replied with mock confusion. "I thought elves were supposed to be perceptive and quick but look at you, suddenly slow on the uptake."

Dan glared at her but she simply smiled back, sweetly.

"There really is not much more for me to tell, enna," he said, finally.

"Oh?" Thranduil's voice cut into their discussion. "From the things that I have heard you say, I anticipate there is a great deal more to be known about my son. Further, this blasphemy is not something I am so easily willing to forget, Elrondion."

Dan slid off the stool and rose to his full six-foot-two-inch height. Lauren had seen the expression on Dan's face in the past and knew Thranduil treaded on very delicate ground. A few seconds later, Thranduil met his position and they glared at one another.

"Sit down, both of you," Lauren hissed as she placed her hands flat against the muscular chests of the elves. She realized she had put herself in a dangerous position, between two elves of royal blood and enormous egos.

"How long did Legolas remain in the colony, Dan?" Lauren demanded. "And when he left, where did he go?"

Dan shook his head and sighed. In that moment, Lauren knew that not only did she not want to hear his answer but that whatever Dan said would have a profound effect on the elf she loved.


	23. Chapter 23

When the meal ended, Thranduil distracted himself by assisting Lauren with the dishes. Distantly, he heard her protests but did not process the words as his thoughts were turned toward his son, his only child, who had arrived in the Undying Lands alone and in despair.

"Thranduil!" Slowly, he turned toward the sound of his name and felt something removed from his hands. Her face came into focus, hazel-green eyes watched him with concern and sadness. Thranduil did not want anyone's pity, least of all that of the mortal woman whose bed and confidence he shared.

"How may I be of service, my lady?" He snapped sarcastically.

"Actually, it appears it is I who can be of service to you," she retorted. "Thank you." There was no malice, no anger, and no disappointment in her voice. Instead, she continued to treat him as she would under normal circumstances while she subtly gave him the physical and mental space he needed at that moment.

Almost as if she could sense his emotions and read his thoughts.

Thranduil heard the dial on the dishwasher click and the sound of water rushing through the automated hum of the machine.

_Elladan watched Legolas fall further inside of himself. _

_ Six months after his arrival in the colony, he retreated into the forest where he built himself a talan high above the ground. The dark-haired elf had not seen such a structure since his last visit to Lothlorien. The fair elf, warrior, and last king of Eryn Lesgalyn lived like a commoner. _

_**"Legolas!"**__ Elladan shouted from the wraparound deck outside the cabin. He attempted to peer through the thick glass but saw nothing but darkness. With an irritated huff, he began to pound on the door repetitively while he waited for the younger elf to open the door. _

_**"For the love of the Valar, Elladan!"**__ Legolas snarled, practically ripping the door from its hinges when he opened it. __**"What could you **_**possibly**_** want that requires such a commotion?" **__Elladan glared into his friend's deep blue eyes, briefly reminded of the elf's father who had disappeared centuries prior to his departure from Middle Earth. The rims were red, the whites were blood shot, his hair was oily and matted against his head as if he had not bathed in weeks. He was shirtless, barefoot, and hungover. _

_ Elladan almost gave a start when he realized he realized that was likely the case. Behind Legolas he saw the wooden floor covered with empty liquor bottles and the odor of spirits was emanated strongly. _

_**"You are drunk,"**__ the dark-haired elf pronounced distastefully. _

_**"No, not yet,"**__ Legolas replied with a mischievous grin in his eye. __**"First, I must procure more of this lovely grain alcohol distilled in the town. You are, of course, more than welcome to join me." **_

_** "You shall do no such thing!" **__Elladan exclaimed, hands balling into fists. __**"Is this where you have been for the last week? Hiding in your talan, drinking until you pass out and then repeating the process?" **_

_**"Essentially, yes,"**__ he replied, swaying. Elladan pursed his lips together. Then, without warning, he threw the blonde elf over his shoulder and proceeded to descend to the ground, listening for the nearest source of water. _

_**"I shall vomit if you do not – ."**__ Legolas was cut off by the sound of his own wretching. Elladan wrinkled his nose in disgust at the odor but waited for his friend to finish heaving before he promptly marched in the direction of a stream he heard moving to the east. _

_ The stream babbled peacefully and for an instant, Elladan actually felt pity for the poor creatures that lived in its depths before he threw his friend into a pool of water. Spluttering, Legolas shot out of the surface, pushing his hair from his face and glaring at Elladan. _

_**"What do you think you are doing, Elrondion?"**__ Legolas demanded, his voice already more clear and even than it had been moments before. _

_**"Giving a petulant young elfling his bath,"**__ Elladan replied, folding his arms over his chest._

_**"You should mind your own business and leave me be!" **__Legolas shouted angrily. _

_**"You will listen to me, Legolas Greenleaf, and you will listen well,"**__ Elladan replied in a menacing voice, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his handsome face. __**"I care not that the last three hundred years have not been the most pleasant time in your life. I care even less that the Undying Lands have not lived up your expectations. **_

_** "You shall no longer wallow in your self-pity. You were born a prince and at one time, you were the king of a great realm. It is time you stopped behaving like a spoiled elfling and behaved as the honorable ellon you are!"**_

_**"And how do you propose I do that?"**__ Legolas sneered, crossing his arms over his own chest, mirroring Elladan's posture._

_**"This, whatever this place is truly, is a place to begin a new life,"**__ Elladan said, his voice filled tempting wonder. "A place where you can be and do the things you could not because of duty or other obligations. I grow bored with colony life and I wish to see what more there is to this place, if anything. I wish for you to join me." _

_ Legolas sniffed and narrowed his eyes. _

_**"And if I wish to remain and destroy my liver?"**__ He taunted the other elf. _

_**"Then I shall bind you and drag you with me,"**__ Elladan replied cheerfully. __**"Now, hurry along Greenleaf, we have much to do." **_

Without saying more, Thranduil quietly turned and left the kitchen. No longer able to bear the company of others he needed some to digest Dan's tale. Although the peredhel had said nothing, he started to hold out hope that his son was still alive somewhere in the world and that he might be able to see Legolas again. __

XXXXX

Lauren watched Thranduil leave the room before she leaned against the kitchen counter. She wanted to do more for him, to comfort him, but she knew that the best thing to do would be to say nothing and give him space. She only hoped that if he needed more, needed _her_, he would not allow his stubborn elvish pride get in the way. Dan smiled sheepishly at her before averting her eyes to the ground.

"You're pissed at me," he finally broke the silence between them.

"A smidge," she replied sarcastically.

"What did you expect, Lauren?" Dan asked her. "Hi, I'm Dan O'Rourke, I'm a sociology major from Middlewood, Pennsylvania and oh, by the way, I'm a five thousand year old elf that you may have read about in J.R.R. Tolkien's, _The Hobbit_ or _The Lord of the Rings_ series."

Lauren offered him a small smile.

"Okay, it _does_ sound ridiculous," she admitted. Dan mockingly raised an eyebrow at her, nodding his head. "Are you going to take off your prosthetics then?" Dan stared at her, genuinely surprised.

"You want me to take them off?" He paraphrased.

"Yeah, what's the point of wearing them now? It's not like I haven't seen elf ears before," she reminded him.

"I'll bet you're very familiar with elf ears now," he replied slyly. Lauren threw a towel at him while he carefully peeled off the rubbery round piece that had been fastened to his ear. "Although I must say, I _am_ glad you know now so I don't have to wear these damned things all the time. They itch."

Lauren smiled and cast a glance in the direction Thranduil had gone. Dan shoved his prosthetics in his jeans pocket, studying her.

"Do you still have that bronze fire pit?" He asked her. She nodded, shrugging at him. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he led to the deck.

"Come along, enna," he said. "We'll build a fire, drink like we did in college, and enjoy nature."

"I don't have any wood for it," she told him.

"Well, you're fortunate that I have a few thousand years of experience with survival camping," he told her. Lauren felt guilty for leaving the elvenking in the house alone but reminded herself that he wanted to be left alone.

"When did you and Legolas leave the colony?" She asked him once they had reached her freestanding fire pit. Dan sighed heavily, intently studying the ashes in the dirtied bronze bowl.

"He's still alive Lauren," Dan answered her unasked question in a low, serious voice. "Though he's not the same elf Thranduil remembers."

"You're still in contact with him," she accused him, crossing her arms over chest. Dan nodded solemnly and glanced at the tree line.

"I'm going to get some wood, you grab the liquor and we'll drink away our sorrows," he said, a smile on his face.

"Wait a minute," she protested. "Elves have a high tolerance for alcohol - ."

"First, we have a high_er_ tolerance for alcohol than mortals," Dan corrected her. "Second, you shouldn't believe everything Tolkien wrote. Of course, that in itself is a story to tell."

Lauren nodded and watched Dan's back as he moved with an unnatural grace across her back yard. Her thoughts turned back to Thranduil and her mind clouded with worries once more. Part of her wanted Dan to drag Legolas to his father, kicking and screaming if need be, while another part wanted to protect Thranduil from the impending pain of meeting with his son.

She thought back to the psychic's words, his soul and his son. Legolas was to somehow play a role in Thranduil's return to Greenwood.

So lost in thought, she did not notice Thranduil's approach until she felt something gently press her shoulder. Startled, Lauren's whipped her head toward him and found herself face to face with the object of her thoughts.

"Hey," she said, staring directly into his eyes. His hand slid farther onto her shoulder, pain and sorrow in his eyes though his jaw remained firmly clenched. "Thranduil … Andy … it's alright." She reached over her shoulder and laid her hand over his.

"Is it?" He demanded, the grip on her shoulder tightened. Her own jaw clenched in response.

"What I meant," she began, holding up her hand to silence him. "Is that I'm here, whether or not you want or need someone in whom you can confide. And if you don't, that's also alright. I just don't know … what you need from me to help you right now. Okay?" She wrenched herself from his grasp and moved to the opposite side of the fire pit.

"Lauren," he began. "Thank you." She merely nodded at him.

"What is this … metallic object?" He asked her, his eyes cast down at the raised bronze fire pit. Lauren laughed at his contemptuous expression.

"For the sake of saving my lawn from potential scorch marks," she said. "It's a fire pit. It's pretty common out here in the boonies for people to have them on their property. I decided that I didn't want the risk of out-of-control blazes and the effort of maintaining one in the ground. So, it's merely a raised fire pit."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at it suspiciously.

"You plan to build a fire," he surmised.

"Mmm, no, _Dan_ plans to build a fire," she corrected him. "I plan to watch and mock him while he's doing it."

"A fire is but a small task for an elf," Thranduil scoffed, waving his hand.

"I know that," she replied irritably. "After all, you people are masters at living off the land, survival, etcetera ad nauseum." She rolled her eyes.

"What does 'etcetera ad nauseum' mean?" He asked, his head tilted slightly to the right.

"It means she's jealous that she has no skills to live harmoniously with nature," Dan interrupted them, dumping an enormous armload of wood beside the pit. "I thought you were procuring our libations."

"I was but I thought I'd be polite and answer Andy's questions," she retorted. Dan shook his head, muttering about the strangeness of Thranduil with a nickname.

XXXXX

He was mildly annoyed at the carefree attitudes displayed by Dan and Lauren as they liberally drank from a bottle Lauren called, "cheap stuff." Thranduil wanted to know more about his son, what had happened in the intervening years, and most importantly, where Legolas was at that moment.

"We left New Ithilien about six months later," Dan said. "It was barely enough time to find and train my replacement. With the upcoming departure, Legolas was too busy preparing to drink anymore although I did, at time, need to remind him to eat."

_ Legolas took a bite of the turkey from his plate and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. Elladan waited for him to share whatever it was that seemed to occupy his mind. _

_**"Do you believe we will encounter others while we travel?"**__ Legolas finally asked him. Elladan shrugged, sipping the Miruvor from his goblet. _

_**"I would imagine so,"**__ he replied. __**"Though I know not whether they be elves or something else entirely."**_

_ Legolas nodded, satisfied with the explanation and returned to the red, fruit-like object on his plate. The fruit had been discovered in the forests not long after the first elves arrived from Middle Earth. It had become a staple in their diets, along with another plant that produced small, yellow, bean-like ridges inside of green leafy wrappers. _

_**"Sandir, the weapons smith, has finished your short swords,"**__ Elladan remarked absently. He knew Legolas maintained some distance between himself and the other elves. As far as the peredhel was concerned, that was a perfectly acceptable behavior as sadness lingered within the other colonists and sometimes radiated outward like smoke. Legolas had remained on the edge of fading and Elladan did not want to lose any more of his friend, physically and spiritually. _

_ Elladan and Legolas had said their good-byes during the week leading up to their departure date. The house where Elladan had lived was given to his successor and the servants agreed to remain with the young elf. Many of the colonists were not at all shocked to learn that the former king of Eryn Lesgalyn and their governor were leaving to explore the new world. _

_**"This place was always a little too mundane for an adventurous warrior,"**__ Sandir had chuckled when Elladan arrived to claim the swords. _

_**"Then I must discover whether the entirety of this world is like our little colony here, eh?" **__Elladan replied, winking at the weapons smith. __**"You could come with us, Sandir. I know Rumil has finished his apprenticeship with you and could easily manage your shop until we return."**_

_ The blonde elf smiled but shook his head forcefully. _

_**"Oh, young prince, if only I could," **__he lamented, amusement in his voice. __**"Irilia is due to give birth any day now and I could hardly leave her alone, with a newborn elfling, as I traipse about having adventures."**_

_ Elladan knew Sandir and Irilia had waited millennia to marry, each forced to fulfill obligations to their families and their realms before they could begin their own lives. The couple had been married two hundred years but continued to act as if they were newly wed. _

_**"May we all be that fortunate some day, Sandir,"**__ Elladan replied. __**"Farewell."**_

_ The sun had not yet risen over New Ithilien when Elladan emerged from his home for the last time. The servants and the new governor remained asleep, the house dark and quiet, and the air filled with the early morning stirrings of the animals. Although he had repeatedly told everyone he would return, Elladan could not stop himself from questioning whether he was making a mistake and whether he truly would ever see his kin again. _

_**"Your thoughts trouble you, my friend,"**__ Legolas' soft voice cut through his silent musings. _

_ "My heart is sad to leave our kind," Elladan replied. "Yet my soul knows no peace while I remain here. I have too many questions that need answers, answers that shall not be found by remaining here."_

_**"Then it is good that we depart before you too, begin to despair,"**__ Legolas remarked quietly, clapping Elladan on the shoulder. _

_ Silently, the two elves departed New Ithilien for what they hoped to be greater things._

Thranduil waited for Dan to continue the story. He was not satisfied with what he had been told about Legolas. Lauren's attention was fixed on Dan as if she, too, was waiting for something more substantial.

"Where did you go? What did you do?" Lauren pressed him. Dan had been staring into the fire with a melancholy expression on his handsome face.

"Those adventures could fill volumes by themselves," Dan replied, taking the last sip of scotch from the bottle. "But the exploration of this world was what we both needed to heal our souls."

"And Legolas?" Thranduil snapped.

"Ah, yes, Legolas," Dan replied, slightly slurring his 'L's. "We traveled the whole of North American continent and the South American continent. We encountered thousands of indigenous cultures and we thought Man had been given entry into the Undying Lands because these mortals lived harmoniously with the land, only fighting with one another if absolutely necessary.

"Then the Europeans came in the form of the Spanish and the Portuguese."

_ Fires burned, women screamed, and the streets of Macchu Pichu ran with blood. The white gods of the Inca made certain no one was spared their wrath. High in a tree on the outskirts of the city, Elladan and Legolas watched, horrified, as the fair mortals ransacked the temples, raped women, and chained the survivors together._

_ Lust and greed were bright in their eyes. Elladan could not look away from the carnage, the violence, the evil that was done in the name of a far away ruler and unseen deity. _

_**"These are no gods,"**__ Legolas spat. __**"These are demons that have come to destroy this great city and its people."**_

_**"My friend, we cannot save them," **__Elladan reminded him, clasping his shoulder. __**"We are two against so many more. And they have that loud, explosive weapon at their disposal."**_

_**"Then we remain here? Like cowards?" **__Legolas demanded. __**"Is it not better to die to protect those weaker than ourselves?"**_

_**"And then what?"**__ Elladan hissed. __**"We die for the sole purpose of prolonging the inevitable? That is no warrior's death, mellon-nin. That is a fool's errand!"**_

_ "Then so be it!" Legolas exclaimed, his knuckles white from clasping the crossbar of his arrow. Elladan grabbed Legolas' arm and pushed him agains the tree trunk. _

_**"We shall aid the survivors in whatever way we can," **__he said in an attempt at compromise. __**"We cannot interfere with the will of Elbereth."**_

_**"Elbereth be damned,"**__ Legolas retorted. __**"If this is His will then I would rather rot in Moria than watch this atrocity any longer." **_

Thranduil ran his hand through his long blonde hair. He realized he had not woven his warrior braids since his arrival. He could practically feel his son's frustration at the mindless, heartless cruelty of the 'Conquistadors', as Dan called them.

"We were wrong about Man," Dan said, sadness thick in his voice. "Man had just discovered new ways to kill and torture each other."

"And the Incas?" Lauren asked, staring at him. Dan snorted with derision.

"The survivors took one look at us and ran, screaming," he said. "Not that I blame them, of course. Curiosity drove us to stow away on their ships as they started to transport their silver and gold … loot back to Spain, back to Ferdinand and Isabella."

"What is 'Ferdinand and Isalbella'?" Thranduil asked, confused.

"They were the monarchs who ruled Spain, the realm from which the Conquistadors came, the rulers who sent these soulless Men in search of riches for their kingdom," Dan spat angrily.

"We spent the next three centuries as sailors and soldiers to the various principalities and kingdoms, sailing to Asia, Africa, and around Europe. We saw so many things - wonders, tragedies, history – that in some ways, we started to become more like Men and less like elves."


End file.
